Gotham Knights: Year One
by Hybridbabe
Summary: There was always more to the Cat and the Bat's relationship than meets the eye...
1. Two Sides, Two Stories PT 1

**Title:** Gotham Knights: Two Sides, Two Stories (Part 1 of 4)  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!  
**Author's Note:** After seeing Smallville for a zillion times already, I began to think one day what a Gotham based fan fiction would be like, and at first, I was thinking high school like Clark, but there would be no way that that would ever work: Bruce Wayne goes off 'soul searching' all over the globe and doesn't come back until he's in his twenties. So, the entire Batman as a teen thing wouldn't work. Then again, for some reason, I always pictured Bruce as older than Clark anyway, due to his outlook on life in the comics/animated series. Yeah, that's partly due to his parents getting murdered, but Bruce just seemed... older. More mature. Thus making Bruce the age he is in this fiction, 23. And since I always pictured her to be younger than Bruce, Selina is 19. Therefore, the "young Batman" angle could still work, and still run parallel to the Smallvile time frame. Anyway, I want to openly say, this fic is **NOT** a ripoff from _Batman Begins_, which I haven't even seen yet. I was thinking of this idea for almost a year now, before I even knew _Batman Begins_ was going to happen, around the summer of last year, and this isn't the same plot at all, not entirely. Yes, I know, to stay true to the comic books, it needs to be similar, but not identical, and that's what I plan to do. So, without further adieu, here we go! The first part of the first fiction of the Gotham Knights Extended Fictions! Enjoy!  
**Summary:** In the shadows of the night, two creatures of the night are born, and their lives are forever intertwined.

* * *

Dark. It was dark, and it was raining. He could smell it, even in the musty, industrial smell of the huge city. Rain had a specific smell, sharp, crisp, clear, and it made everything clearer, natural, and earthen. It gave clarity, and a hushed sound at the same time. Although he didn't know it then, every raindrop that fell would become burned into his mind for all eternity, and hush his screams as the two people he loved fell to the ground, cold and dead on an April morning. 

Two shapes were laughing, and one of them was a woman and, more appropriately, his mother. A gentle, kind woman, she wore a simple, ivory overcoat that was simply elegant, just as she was. Her laughing azure eyes caught the light in even the darkest corners, and continually became the life of every event. Good natured, she was more than just a trophy wife for her husband; no, Martha Wayne was far from a display case-worthy award. She was outspoken, an advocate for female rights, setting the example that women too could do good in the world from a more offensive perspective. As popular as her counterpart, Martha was honest, and she was cunningly smart, often pointing out things her husband tended to miss, and never settled for second rate; her motto was always to succeed, no matter what you did, and if something was worth doing, then do it well.

It was in her memory which drove her son to later become something more than just himself.

The other figure was bundled in a dark brown overcoat like the boy's own small black one, the red scarf around the man's neck flapping slightly as he moved. Doctor Thomas Wayne, the man his son wanted to be like when he was older. An accomplished doctor, billionaire and philanthropist, with kind, dark blue eyes and a prominent jaw, Thomas had a vision for his family, one that he often voiced and included their future cemented in stone: he was done being the successful surgeon he had previously been, and wanted to devote his time with his family, his wife Martha, and his only son Bruce. He loved his family very much, and now that his fortune had been built and the fledgling Wayne Enterprises had been built from the ground up, he was done with business deals and the long hours, with the huge successes and the overwhelming losses. He was done saving lives with his bare hands; he'd continue doing the best he could with his money, and never facing the fear of having his own son, or his own wife there on the surgery table.

Little did he know that, like Milton said, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray". It's a lesson that would take Bruce a lifetime to figure out.

The Mark of Zorro had but moments before concluded, all three of them walking gaily towards where they parked the car, when a figure approached them, a gun in his hand. His eyes were like snake eyes, that much was true: Bruce found he couldn't move, couldn't think, frozen in fear as the madman took a hold of his mother's pearls and yanked hard.

Then a quick movement from his father and... Oh god! Shots fired! **Shots fired**! **BANG**! **BANG**! Two shots, and blood gushed everywhere, two bodies falling to the street, with Bruce not far behind, falling to his knees and crying... crying... Dead. They were dead, and the little boy could only watch as the madman got away, he got away, and he didn't do anything! He didn't, he couldn't! He was... only a boy...

Startled from his sleep, billionaire Bruce Wayne, now twenty-three, awoke from a restless sleep, breathing hard and rasping breaths before he finally calmed down, settling back down into his mountain of feather pillows on his bed. It was happening again. He was torturing himself in his sleep for the fifth time this week, the nightmare coming back to him right when he didn't want it to, and one glance at his clock made him groan again. Five A.M. Not good.

Sleepy blue eyes stared at the ceiling, his heart hammering in his chest. Why now? Why were these dreams haunting him now? Why now? He just got back from the Orient, Siberia and Brazil three weeks ago, trying to settle into the life of a bachelor playboy by day, and hunting down Gotham's lowlifes by night. Something was calling out to him, something in the darkness that he couldn't explain. It wasas if something was supposed tohappen, or he was supposed to be something more than just the Batman, but he didn't know what exactly that was.

He didn't quite know, but he'd find out. One of these days.

* * *

At the same moment, another figure was just waking up for the day, her arms stretching upwards towards the ceiling and cracking her shoulders and neck. Rolling her shoulders back, the woman eased out of bed, leaving the warmth of comfort and trying not to wake her roommate as she prepared herself for her first job. 

The life of Selina Kyle was, in one word, boring. Nothing held any excitement for her as she went from part-time job to part-time job, often struggling to make ends meet in the noisy, busy city of Gotham. Since fourteen, she'd been an orphan, her mother killing herself and her father drinking himself to death, but that never seemed to slow her down. She was better than them, and she knew it; one of these days, she was going to go places, be somebody, and she hoped that, one day, she'd finish being only mediocre, and make her way in the world.

For now, she just had to survive waitressing the six-thirty shift at Sloppy Joe's House of... what else? Sloppy joes.

Groggy, she felt around her nightstand for her glasses and put them on, feeling around for a brush to comb out the knots in her long, light brown hair. She'd recently taken to dying her locks, and found light brown to be her favorite, bringing a nice contrast to her face. It suited her, and went nicely with her dark blue eyes. She turned heads, and for the moment, that was all that mattered.

The more heads she turned, the more money she made.

Her waitress uniform was already set out in the bathroom, and all she had to do was start up the shower. It was going to be a long day, like every other day in her long and boring life.

And not for the first time did she wish she was something more.

* * *

Already awake, Bruce hurried up and dressed, trying to get a grip over himself after remembering. It wasn't the first time that it had happened: he'd been experiencing the same thing since the event occurred, but for some reason, this time seemed different. Was there something about today that was meant to be important? Was something going to happen? 

He sprinted down the wide banister, reaching the bottom of the stairs just as his confidant and friend, the loyal butler Alfred Pennyworth, appeared from a doorway leading into the kitchen, a tray of golden brown pancakes, complete with strawberries and whipped cream on top of them; orange juice sloshed from side to side in a delicate china glass next to the plate. "Good morning, Master Bruce. I hope you're not too eager to face the day without eating breakfast first."

"Alfred, you know I'm never too busy for your pancakes. Gotham could be completely on fire, and I'd still drop everything for a bite."

"I'm not sure if the Gotham Police Department would appreciate that, Master Bruce," quipped the butler, letting his charge take his morning meal from the tray. "After all, you do tend to bring the most unsavory, psychotic and criminally insane villains to justice."

"Thank you, Alfred." He smiled casually. "Nice to hear."

Alfred smiled back, enjoying the light-hearted banter. It wasn't often that the younger man was in a mood other than brooding; since his parents died, there wasn't much happiness and enjoyment in his life. He just kept driving himself, pushing himself, trying to be more than he was, and sooner or later, that was going to cost him. The butler didn't ever want it to get to the point where being the vigilante hero was going to be Bruce's entire life, but little by little, day by day, it was looking better and better.

He would dread the day when it happened, and painfully grieve for another parting Wayne.

"Alfred?" He looked up, almost guiltily, as if Bruce had read his mind. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, sir. Just speculating your future."

That was a puzzling remark. "My future?"

"Yes, your future. More importantly, I'm thinking of what exactly you will be doing with the rest of your life, and if you'll continue masquerading as Gotham's Greatest Detective instead of living normally, like everyone else."

From Alfred, that was probably the oddest sentence he had ever heard, and Bruce frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry sir, but one of these days, I'm afraid you'll be risking your life as the Batman, and cease to be Bruce Wayne entirely. I can tell that being your alter ego is placing you closer and closer to the pit you almost fell in when you discovered the cave, and I hate to see your life suffer because of a vendetta you vowed to your parents."

"Being Batman is what gives my life purpose, Alfred. I had nothing to devote myself to until my parents were murdered in front of me."

"Honest, Master Bruce, would you even consider living a normal life? Without the masks?"

"We've been over this time and time again since I got back. You know that's not an option anymore."

Alfred sighed, resigned. "Yes, we have, haven't we? And as much as I would rather like to entertain flirtatious women with my intellect and charm, I suppose I will have to consent to the Bat costume, complete with bullet holes."

The billionaire smiled again, amused. "Thank you, Alfred."

"For what it's worth, sir, I do hope there is a Mrs. Bruce Wayne in the picture when you retire."

He sighed, uncertain. "I hope so too, Alfred. Of course, it's going to be a challenge to find a woman who can deal with Batman."

"It's a challenge for anyone to deal with Batman, sir."

"Ha, ha, very funny. Anyway, what's in store for me today? Run the itinerary by me again." Sitting down on the bottom step, his slim, quick fingers gripped his fork as he began eating, savoring every bite of breakfast cake. "And man, Alfred, you really outdid yourself when you made these. Have they always been this good?"

"I added a slight bit more milk and vanilla. But may we get back to the point?" The butler took a pad of paper and a pen out of his right jacket pocket, flipped open the leather black cover on the pad, and pointed at a few things with the writing utensil. "HerriTek is anxiously awaiting Mr. Fox's proposal to help fund the independent space program they're trying to negotiate with Japanese investors. Mr. Fox has asked you to personally give it to them."

"Ah, the old 'man-of-humble-upbringing' scheme. Show everyone you're not afraid to talk to the little people... and risk your life in public, and earn their respect. Tell me, how many assassination attempts have I been involved in now, Alfred? Five?"

"As Bruce Wayne: four. As the Batman: over thirty-five. Per day."

Bruce shook his head, amused. "I hope Lucius has a good reason why it had to be me to do this boring stuff. Anything else?"

"You have a ten-thirty appointment with the board to discuss your objectives for the coming fiscal year. And Mr. Palmer has an appointment to discuss Wayne Enterprises' future in the field of artillery. Apparently, he believes that if Gotham should ever be in any real danger, we should all be better prepared and have bigger guns."

"And the answer to his proposal would be no," he said flatly, dead serious. "My father paid in blood to create this company, and it was a bullet that took his life. Absolutely not. I'm not going to fund any project that even remotely deals in what killed him."

Alfred nodded, proud of his morals. "Very good, sir. Oh, also, I have to call the dry cleaners for your tuxedo, and the catering service. Tonight is your 'welcome back to Gotham' party."

The billionaire groaned, taking a few more bites of pancake. "I hate parties. I don't do social events."

"I know you don't sir, but that was the price you paid to be Batman. You sold your public life for your personal one. I'll call Morrigan's Catering as soon as possible." Alfred nodded once, then turned to leave, motioning to the kitchen with one hand. "When you're done with your meal, Master Bruce, I expect to find those dishes in the sink, and not in your study downstairs."

His charge smiled, and ate another bite. "You're the best, Alfred."

"I try."

* * *

**RING-A-DING**! It was three hours past six-thirty, and she was almost ready to kill that bell, the one which rang every time someone strolled into the diner, looking for coffee or a sloppy joe sandwich that the store was famous for. For some God forsaken reason, they served them twenty-four/seven, no matter what time it was. It didn't make sense at all: people wanted other things than greasy, dripping meat slapped on a bun. 

But Selina had already given up trying to argue the point. The first time she did, it somehow insulted the manager and she ended up on the street without a job. Thank God they gave her another chance when she apologized.

Surprisingly, as soon as she cursed the bell under her breath and resumed cleaning the top counter, a body plopped down in the barstool in front of her, and a sunny, bright voice piped up. "Wow, looks like you're working hard."

She smiled, and it didn't take a rocket science to guess who dropped in to say hi. "Yeah, well, they don't trust me with the grill, Harl. They're afraid I'll burn too many damned sloppy joes."

Harleen Quinzell, psychologist in training, was a fun loving but serious girl, studying at Gotham U. for her graduate's degree; but that didn't stop her from teasing her best friend. Clad in a black and red business suit complete with pantyhose and red high-heels, she grinned, her baby blue eyes sparkling behind tortoise shell glasses. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Prof. Watson has suggested me for Arkham duty! Isn't that exciting?" She was literally bouncing in her seat with bubbly enthusiasm. "I get to psych the patients!"

Selina laughed, shaking her head and leaned her elbows on the tabletop, her face in her hands. "Harl, you're nuts. Only you would get excited over meeting the criminally insane. I swear, one of these days, you're going to end up falling in love with one of those psychos."

"No way. I keep strict, doctor-patient confidentiality. I promise."

"Yeah, sure..." She tapped a few fingers on her cheek before sliding away, fixing her white apron over her black T-shirt and khaki shorts. "So what'll it be? Can't have you coming in here without buying something first."

"What do you got?"

"Well, let me see. We have coffee, coffee, orange juice, coffee, grape juice, milk, coffee and OH! Look! Coffee!" She gripped a pot off the burner and flourished it, exaggerating her movements and still managing not to spill a drop. "Guaranteed to strip the meat off your bones, give you a heart attack and stunt your growth, all at the same time."

"Coffee, then! I don't mind."

"De-caf for you, it sounds like." She winked at her roommate and reached for a mug. "So tell me, what exactly is going on in that university you attend?"

"That you should be attending, as of this moment?"

Selina groaned, waving it off with the coffee pot, handing her friend the mug in her hand three-fourths full. "No way. C'mon, Harl, we've been over this before. I dropped out of college because I couldn't afford tuition. Plus, I'm living the high life. I'm doing things."

"Like what? Waiting on tables and waiting to rot?" Harley shook her head, saddened. "You could be doing so much more than this, girl. You could be getting a degree in whatever you want, but no, you're just blowing it. You could afford the tuition if you tried."

"That's the thing, Harl: I do try. I try my damnedest, and it doesn't make a bit of difference. I barely make enough to support the two of us and pay my share of the rent! I work three jobs, and I would work four, but hey, a girl's got to sleep and have her own hobbies." She played with her rag a bit more, wiping up an already spotless counter. "I've got to pay Ted for the kick-boxing and boxing lessons he gives me, as well as all the aerobic stuff we do together. Between that, and all the dead-end jobs I have, it's a wonder I have any time to sleep anymore."

The psychologist smiled sadly. "You know as well as I do that you don't sleep well, not at all. I can hear you tossing and turning at night."

"It's just... I keep getting this feeling that I'm supposed to be somebody, you know? I'm supposed to be someone I'm not, and I have no idea who that is! I'm supposed to be something... bigger. Greater. Better. I just wish I knew what it was."

A smaller, warm hand stopped hers from cleaning with the rag, and baby blue eyes met slightly darker azure ones. "You'll figure it out, Selina. Don't worry; you'll figure this out."

* * *

"Oh! Master Bruce!" called a voice from down the hall, "Mr. Dent would like your presence at a Sloppy Joe's House of Sloppy Joes, one of those classic, 'shiny' diners, for morning coffee this morning at ten. I forgot to mention that to you earlier this morning, due to your voracious appetite for my pancakes." 

Bruce tied a slate gray tie around his neck, and smiled fondly, remembering one of his oldest friends, Mr. Harvey Dent, attorney at law. It would be fun to see old friends again, and he'd never been to Sloppy Joe's Diner before. This might be fun after all... "Sure, Alfred, I'll go ahead and meet him there. I'm sure we can find the way if he points it out."

"I'll get him on the phone, sir."

"Thanks."

* * *

Selina flipped her glasses down from off the top of her head, and glared at the receipt in her hand. "Umm, so what again?" 

The customer, probably the billionth that had graced her presence in the past hour, scowled furiously, jabbing their finger at the piece of paper. "You gave me the wrong receipt."

Puzzled, this somehow didn't register. "Wait, what? I know this is the right one, because I made it out to you myself. Now, what exactly is the problem?"

"It's the wrong one! You charged me two cups instead of one!"

"Sir, you **DRANK** two cups and there ain't no free refills. Go to Mickey D's and get yourself a happy meal and a coffee there, and you can have all the refills you want. Better yet, get me one too, before I kick your--"

**RING-DING**! _God, that bell is going to die._ But before a word escaped her mouth, she couldn't help but glance at the incoming customer. He was built like an athlete, muscular in all the ways that counted, a shiny black briefcase in his hand. Dressed in a white, pinstripe suit, he had no sense of fashion, mixing an argyle green and orange tie with his ensemble, and his shiny, black leather shoes were like new; even the scratches didn't have a scratch on them. His hair was slicked back in a casual but business fashion, and he promptly plunked down in a bar across the way; he had the posture and wandering eyes of someone who was expecting a friend, colleague, or business associate, and his jaw was set, stiff like stone. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who joked or took joking lightly, and Selina shivered when he met her eyes.

She promptly amended the enraged customer's bill, knowing that somehow or another, the diner was getting gypped and it was coming out of her paycheck, and, with a final pat on Harley's hand, strode over to the man and took a pen and receipt pad from a pocket in her apron. "Can I help you, sir? What would you like today?"

He shook his head and smiled slightly, something she instinctively knew was rare for him. "Can you wait a few minutes? I have a friend meeting me this morning, and then you can get us both at the same time."

The young lady nodded, understanding, and smiled back at him. "Ok, no problem. I'll just wait for awhile."

* * *

Alfred drove like a grandfather, almost like he was trailing a funeral procession, and Bruce groaned in the back seat, anxious to get to this diner Harvey was meeting him at. "How far is it to the diner again, Alfred?" 

"Oh, about another few blocks, sir," came the reply. "I'm sure we'll make it in time."

"Alfred, it's almost 10:15."

"Alright, so we won't make it on time. I can assure you though, Master Bruce, Mr. Dent won't mind if you're late."

The younger man shook his head, amused. "The best things come to those who wait, huh?"

"Indeed. Besides, it is my opinion, that Mr. Dent could use a little bit more patience. I've seen him when he's cross examining witnesses and he does tend to jump to some of the most audacious conclusions."

Then again, that was Harvey for you: stoic for the most part unless you were either a friend or the enemy. Then, a person came to see one side or the other of his personality: the kind gentleman of the court, or one of hell's own demons, ready to cut you to pieces in a matter of moments. Harvey had always been that sort of way; as a survivor of child abuse, it was hard for him to turn his life around. When he did, though, it was still hard to shake off what had happened to him, even after all these years.

Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. "Where is it, Alfred?"

"Oh, about another block or two due west, sir. Why?"

"Thanks." Gripping the handle of the car door, the young billionaire stepped out onto the pavement, and slammed the panel shut, waiting a few moments for Alfred to roll down the window. "I'll just run ahead and meet him there. Thanks for driving me this far though."

"May I remind you, Master Bruce, that if you do indeed run, to slow your pace down? I think it would be awfully suspicious if someone noticed you ran as fast as Batman. You do, ah, have that same sort of build that he does, and people may recognize you and discover your secret."

"Don't worry about it. I still know I'm Bruce Wayne in the daylight," he joked, and started strolling away towards the diner. "I'll see you, Alfred."

The butler nodded and tipped his hat, smiling back. "Call me when you're ready, sir."

* * *

Selina was talking to Harley at the counter when she saw him for the first time, and what she noticed before anything else was his eyes. They were laughing, carefree, but there was also something within them that she couldn't quite place. Deep blue, they seemed like oceans full of mystery and torment welled within them, and she instinctively knew that, although this might be so, he wasn't one to show it. He didn't seem like the kind of man who was susceptible to delving into his own problems. 

The rest of him was just as surprising. Like his friend, who he had sat down across from, he was built, but unlike the lawyer, it wasn't "muscle man" built. He was lean, with large forearms and healthy legs, both with more than enough sinew and strength, but he wasn't a bear or an elephant like Mr. Suit Jacket. No, he was more lithe, spring coiled...

"Like a cat," she whispered to no one in particular.

He was a jaguar of a man, a mane of black hair falling into his eyes. Everywhere he went, he seemed to be watching, observing, not quite living in the same manner or even the same world as everyone else. Although many couldn't see it, it was like he was an observer, like a tourist to the zoo, just watching, waiting, and expecting things to happen even if they didn't occur at that distinct moment in time. He was a prowler, an outsider, and the young woman could instantly identify and relate to that feeling.

Sometimes, she didn't feel like she fit into society either, but while she stuck out like a sore thumb, he blended in so much better than she did. Jaguar indeed.

A casual glance her way gave in to long pauses of silent stares, neither rude nor crude just... comfortable. Suddenly, she had an unnerving instinct to stare into his eyes, just so she could forget all her problems and feel safe, secure, and loved. The very thought of having such a thing after so long of doing without it was almost ludicrous.

After all, this guy, with his slightly casual demeanor coupled with an extremely expensive suit seemed way out of her league to begin with.

After a moment to gather her nerves, Selina was dazed for a few moments more, then, with Harley's hand patting her shoulder, she strode forward towards the table, and said shakily, "C-Can I help you? W-What would you like today, here at Joe's Diner?"

_Smooth, Kyle, smooth_, she mentally chided herself. _Wonderful. Let the guy think you're an idiot before you even meet him. Great._

His partner fixed his gaze on her and smirked. "Well, what do you have?"

"Well..." She thought for a moment. "Obviously we have sloppy joes. This is Sloppy Joe's House of Sloppy Joes. And for some unknown reason, we serve them twenty-four seven, but then again if it was up to me, I'd only serve them at like midnight, where only--"

The guy she had her eye on laughed, and winked at her. "Oh really? I never would have guessed."

Was he flirting with her? Selena blushed crimson red. "We have other things, too. Pancakes, waffles, bacon and eggs..."

"We'll take two cups of coffee, Miss... Selina," replied the friendlier of the two, reading her name off her nametag. "Selina, huh? Pretty name."

"Bruce, are we here to grab a cup of coffee, or flirt with the waitresses?"

Then, it hit her: this was no ordinary man. _Kyle, you idiot, you're serving coffee to Bruce Wayne_!

Her eyes widened slightly at the realization, and he noticed. "Is there a problem, Miss Selina?"

Shaking her head, she tried to keep her mind set on her job instead of who she was serving. "No. I just didn't expect Bruce Wayne to order food in this diner while I was on duty."

Hearing his name escaping her lips seemed to jar him, as if he was breaking out of some sort of dream and rejoining reality. Shifting slightly, he looked uncomfortable. "Yes, well, believe me, it was a surprise to me too. I didn't exactly pick the place. Harvey here," he pointed, "did."

"Harvey Dent, miss. Attorney," he said curtly, polite. "but if you wouldn't mind, I think we'd like to have our coffee now."

Dazed, it took her a few seconds to realize she'd been standing there dumbfounded for several minutes. Selina blushed scarlet, and nodded. "Alright, I'll get it for you."

"Wait! Miss?" It was Bruce again. "What's your name? Your full name, I mean."

"Selina. Selina Kyle."

* * *

Turning back to the counter, she only had to take one look at Harley before she groaned loudly, and covered her face in her hands. "Tell me I'm dreaming." 

Her best friend just snickered, observing the events as they took place. "He's cute, you know."

"And he's a billionaire. What the crap kind of a chance in hell do I have of dating a billionaire? The relationship would be doomed from the start."

"C'mon, Selina, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad? **NOT THAT BAD**?" She groaned again. "I'm a nobody. There's no way in hell a man like Bruce Wayne would even take a second look at me. Besides, I'm sure all he was doing when I was over there was being polite. He's a lady's man, you know."

Baby blue eyes met darker sapphire ones. "Yeah? You sure on that one? Because I could've sworn he was totally into you."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why? What do you know that I don't? Or is that your psychoanalyzing mumbo-jumbo again?"

"It doesn't take a psychologist to know he's totally crushing you." She gestured with her head and looked in the man's direction, waving to him when he caught sight of them. "He hasn't stopped staring at you since you walked into his line of vision. Trust me, Kyle, he's interested. Now if I were you, I'd keep it that way."

* * *

What was it about that girl that attracted him so? For at least half a minute, Bruce couldn't help staring at her, at the way she moved and the way she talked; she was so different than he was, so different than the women he was used to being around when he was living the high-life as the boy billionaire. While they were small, petite, and shy with little girly giggles, Selina was completely different. There was something in the tone of her voice and the way she held herself that seriously stood out in his mind, even though he couldn't think of it at the moment... 

"Earth to Bruce, come in, Mr. Wayne." Harvey fanned a hand over Bruce's gaze and sighed heavily. "Not again."

"Wha...?" He'd forgotten about his friend entirely. "Sorry."

The other smirked wickedly, and shook his head. "I can't believe it: the illustrious Bruce Wayne is attracted to a regular, average, normal woman."

"Am not."

"Bruce, even a blind man could see that you have the hots for her."

Flustered, he still tried to refuse, but his efforts were weak, and half-hearted. "Do not."

"So, are you going to ask her?"

"Ask her what?"

The attorney rolled his eyes in disgust. "What do you think, boy billionaire? Do I have to spell it out for you?"

He changed the subject. "So why did you call me here in the first place?"

Harvey let it slide, but a sly gleam in his eyes gave Bruce the impression that he wouldn't let him off the hook THAT easily. "Can't an old friend meet another old friend for coffee at Joe's Diner without the latter friend being suspicious of the former?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because it's not in your nature, Harv. I can't even think of one moment where we've met over something other than business."

An eyebrow shot up. "What about the trip we took to Colorado? Denver in the middle of winter, with the best ski slopes and hot springs, and you're telling me you don't remember that?"

"Ok, so maybe I forgot that one."

"What about the time we went on the Euro trip when I visited you in London? As I recall, you had to ask permission from that Zazaran--"

"Zatara," corrected Bruce, memories flooding back to him. "And I was on the job at the time, might I remind you."

"Ah yes, the old 'work like a regular human being' gig." Shaking his head, the attorney fingered a few sugar packets he had taken from the serving basket on the table. "When will you ever learn that you're not a regular person, Bruce?"

He smiled. _If only you knew, Harvey..._

It was then that he felt her presence, and the young bachelor had to try hard to restrain himself from giving his feelings away in front of her. _You'd think that being Batman would have gifted me with the ability to be stoic twenty-four seven... _"Here you go, two black coffees, ready to do. Just don't sip them too fast, or else they're scald. Hot stuff does that every once in awhile."

Bruce's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her, and it was only after a swift kick connected with his foot under the table that he even had the nerve to ask her, "Hey, Selina?"

She had started to walk away, but then she whirled around, slightly nervous. "Yeah?"

"Hey... would you like to see me... I mean, I want to... wait." He laughed lightly. "Let me start over again. I'm having this party tonight, sort of a 'welcome home' sort of thing for me, since I've been abroad, studying things and... things. And, I was wondering, I mean... if you could... I know you might... well... uh..."

She laughed. "It's alright. You don't have to say any more. I'd love to go with you--"

_She's actually accepting? Wow..._

"--but unfortunately, I have to work tonight."

That sunk his spirits slightly. "That's a really long shift..."

"What? Oh, no, it's not for Joe's. I have a couple jobs. Got to make money at a job somehow, and so far, I barely make minimum wage at one of them, let alone all three. I need them all in order to just pay the car insurance and my share of the rent in my apartment."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry; I'll be ok. I'll hopefully see you later?"

He grinned from ear to ear. "Now that I know Joe's is here, I should stop by more."

"Maybe you should."

"Maybe I will."

"Alright, STOP with the mushy stuff," groaned Harvey, smacking his forehead. "Miss Kyle, if you wouldn't mind? I'm afraid Bruce is heavily distracted by you."

She feigned shock, placing a hand over her brow. "Oh, surely not! How could I do such a fiendish thing like that?"

"I'll see you around, right Selina?"

"You can count on it." She winked, and strode over to her friend, calling over her shoulder to the two of them. "By the way, the coffee's on the house. Enjoy."

Harvey smirked, and nodded his head in her direction. "Marry her. She'd be good for you."

Bruce almost choked on his coffee. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't even know her yet. And I thought you didn't really like her that much."

"Oh my friend, I have a feeling you're going to get to know her very well. And I didn't say I didn't like her."

He shrugged. "I barely know who she is."

"So? That's not stopping you. It's your 'swinging bachelor' attitude; that, coupled with the fact that no girl is going to be your vision of 'Miss Perfect', and you've already lost the war of the heart before it's begun."

_I just want someone who understand me, and who I am... and I'm not talking about Bruce Wayne..._ "Yeah, maybe. Still doesn't mean I have to put a ring or two on her finger."

"Get to know her first, and then put a ring on her finger. Trust me, I'm a good judge of character, and she seems to fit with you." Harvey stared into his friend's eyes for a moment and sighed, shaking his head. "She looks like the type of person who is as mysterious as you tend to be, lately. Ever since you came back, you've been... different. Changed. I don't know what it is, but maybe a girl is what you need right now."

Bruce's eyes drifted closed for a few seconds, elbows resting on the table while his chin drifted into his hands. "I don't know, Harv. I still think I'm still the same old me."

"I don't know... Anyway, listen, take her to a movie sometime. Don't be so uptight, and have fun."

"That would all have to be in the daytime..." He caught his friend's look and shrugged, indifferent. "I have a very... VERY active nightlife."

"Sure you do."

_More than you know._ "Yeah." A beeping on his expensive digital watch grabbed his attention, and he groaned, noticing how late he was going to be getting back to Wayne Enterprises for the board meeting. "Great. Looks like I'm going to have to take a rain check on the coffee and cut this chat short. The board needs me."

"The board always needs you. But I get what you mean." Harvey shook his friend's hand, and escorted him out of his seat, pulling him into an open hug.

Surprised, the billionaire checked him for a fever. "You sure you're ok? I could've sworn I felt your forehead get hot."

He waved it off and chuckled. "We've been friends for years, Bruce. Why shouldn't I hug a close friend? I consider you like my brother."

"And... I consider you one too, Harvey. I'm just surprised you did that. In public. I know how precious your reputation is."

"Screw the reputation. I'm allowed to have a private life. Anyway, you need to get going. I'll see you later, ok?"

Bruce nodded, and hugged him again. "I'll see you later, Harv." He strode past the counter, nodding towards the bouncy, red suited blonde on a stool next to the counter before sliding in front of the waitress he had had his eye on for the entire session. She had found her way to a stack of dishes, furiously cleaning them with a filth-ridden rag, it more dirty than the chipped and broken plates and cups. He tried not to notice as he strummed his fingers on the table, nervous. "Listen..."

She seemed antsy, but her tone carried a playful demeanor. "I've got a lot of work to do, Mr. Wayne. If you need something, I'll get somebody else to help you, and like I said before, coffee's on the house."

Still, her excuse made him jump at the chance he was provided more. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

A blush. "I have to work tonight. And I thought you already asked me that."

"Maybe I did, but then again, I don't know... I just really would like you to come. Would it be so bad to take a night off?"

"Yes. Taking a night off means I don't get paid. It's hard to get paid if you don't work."

He nodded, understanding. "Ok. Well, if you get off early, or change your mind..." A business card was drawn from his pocket, and she reached out to take it before he whipped it back, and started writing on it. "...here is my home address and phone number. But then again, you already know where I live: half the city does." Chuckling, the billionaire caught her eyes and smiled wide, folding the tiny rectangle in her open fingers. Their touch was electric. "I hope I see you there."

"Do you treat all the girls you meet like this?"

"No, only the special ones."

* * *

As he walked out the diner, his friend trailing behind after an hour and a half to finish his coffee, order a couple jelly donuts and finish the paper he purchased from outside, Selina was breathless. Why was Bruce Wayne, of all people, hitting on her? Was he the womanizer she had heard he was, or did he really seem to care? He'd invited her on a date! A DATE! To a party, with all the other rich, important people of Gotham, and she'd be his date. It was something she always dreamed of doing, and yet... 

She had to work. Damn her life...

"Why aren't you takin' the night off, Selina? I'm sure Morrigan's could spare you for a night," said Harley, almost as if she'd heard Selina's thoughts. But that was the ways of the psychiatrist: always knew what you didn't, and knew what's best for you.

"I can't. I have to work tonight, because if I don't, then I won't get paid. The next two month's rent as well as half the car payment are ridding on this check, and I can't let Morrie down. He said this next catering job was going to be a big one, if he could land it, and he called about twenty minutes before you came around to tell me that he did it. He said I'll love it, and I'll get tons of tips, so this is an opportunity I can't pass up, not after being broke for so long... I need to pay you back for the car insurance stuff, and the last three months of rent--"

"Selina, you don't owe me anything. I'm just lucky my internship at Gotham Medical and in the psych ward pays well. And now, since they're sending me to Arkham, I'll get paid more, so don't worry about it! You'll be fine."

She sighed heavily. "I hate feeling inadequate."

"You're not inadequate."

"I am."

"Are not."

A truck pulled up outside, but neither one noticed. "Am too."

"Are not."

A plate slipped out of her hands and fell on the floor. "Crap. Butterfingers."

A voice from the back of the diner, her assistant-manager, Joe James Jr., screeched at her from the grill. "That's coming out of your paycheck, Kyle!"

"Wonderful. You see? I can barely hold down this job..."

Harley winked at her, and slung an arm around her shoulders from across the counter. "You're doing fine, Selina. Just wait, tonight'll-"

The tinkling of that infuriating bell went off again, only this time, it wasn't a customer, but a delivery man in the typical, brownish gray uniform of the GPS, the Gotham Postal Service. He was about middle age, a bushy mustache speckled like salt and pepper with gray hairs, and he was thin but strong. Five crates were stacked on his yellow dolly, and a brown clipboard was in his hand. Halting for a moment, he set the contraption upright, scratched his head, checked the address, and shouted. "Somebody here named Selina Kyle?"

Surprised, she raised her hand. "Me. What's this for?"

He gave her the typical 'duh' kind of look, and nodded his head towards the boxes. "Delivery. Sign here, here, here and here."

She followed his finger as it pointed out the spaces, and then he started the grueling work of putting his parcels on the counter, carefully, one after another, like he was setting up toy soldiers on a slanted floor. Every time he set one down, the contents inside clinked like muffled coins. _What was all this_? She asked herself, puzzled.

When he was done, he presented her with the receipt and an envelope, most likely from the person who sent everything. "It's been paid in full by the sender, so you owe GPS nothin'. Have a good day."

_Who was this from_? She opened the sachet and pulled out a note on the best quality stationery she'd ever seen. It was gold embossed, with a fancy wax seal, the letters pressed into it "BW". She opened this carefully, and was delighted with the scrolling architecture of various Roman pillars inscribed in ink on the page. It was in authentic Roman style, especially the scrolling ivy, cascading down the structures in graceful curves and falls. The same crest on the wax filled the bottom of the right hand corner, and the penmanship used was remarkably clean, clear, and exact.

The note itself was short, but still, it made her smile:

"_Selina-_

_I thought you would be needing these, instead of the old chipped versions. Consider it a bribe to try and get you to meet me tonight._

_Bruce"_

Her smile grew wider when she took a kitchen knife and broke the packaging tape on one of the boxes and opened it up. Inside were beautifully crafted mugs, with the emblem of "Joe's Diner" on them, beautiful, new, and crisp. Silverware were also engraved at the tip of the handles with the same logo, and a knifing job to another box revealed matching plates with checkered, black and white boarders around them. It must have cost a fortune to make and make so quickly, but then again, that was never a problem for Bruce Wayne: he always had a way of making more money, and his already large cash flow was hardly wearing out...

Joey Junior poked his head out and gasped, incredulous. "Where'd these come from? Who sent these?"

Selina just smiled mysteriously, and said, "Someone who likes me, I guess."


	2. Two Sides, Two Stories PT 2

**KaliAnn**- Hee, hee, thank you Kali! I tried to make everything as authentic as I could! And yeah, I made Catwoman into... a normal girl? OMG! LOL! And I love incorporating characters like I did in this fiction: Harvey seemed like a classic choice for a "best friend", and who better for Selina to bunk with than Harley? It gives everyone a bit more depth, and more things I can play with later on as the epic continues. By having all these characters interact, you get insight on their relationships, especially the one between Selina and Harley. I'm a firm believer that the "bad guys" know each other in Gotham, on one scale or another, and in the animated and comic series, we tend to see only Batman's (or Batgirl's/Robin's/Nightwing's) reactions to what's going on. We never know, let's say, Catwoman's jealousy of Poison Ivy, when Ivy's got Bats wrapped up in vines like a Christmas package, and flirts with him in that lovely Poison Ivy way that she has. We never see what Two-Face thinks of the Joker, or the depth of Harley's belief and faith in the Joker (although the animated episode "Mad Love" and also Harley's comic book series do cover it. What I'm talking about is just the normal, everyday Batman comics, and that type of thing. In a regular Batman comic, you'd never see anything but Batman's responses to what happens). That's why, I think this _Gotham Knights: Year One_ epic is so great: it covers everything you can imagine regarding Batman, Catwoman, and the rest of the inhabitants of Gotham. Periodically, I'll be switching POV's, so you can get a bit of what's going on through the Joker's head (and you'll see just how twisted he is inside), Two-Face's, Riddler's and, of course, Catwoman. With the exception of the Joker, you'll also get persona POV's, such as Bruce's when he's being Bruce Wayne, or the Riddler's when he's being Edward Nygma. Anyway, thanks for the note!

**bigguy204**- Thank you very much! I tried to incorporate so many people into this story because this isn't just a Bruce Wayne story, and he's not the only one who is involved with this fiction: it's everyone in the Batman Universe! And I'm going to continue to add people into this thing, because they are a big part of why Bruce is the way he is, and they help define Batman. Plus, it's more interesting to add people that could create conflict, and suspense. And LOL, this story IS a three parter... but **NOT the ONLY story** in _Gotham Knights: Year One_. I was PLANNING on MAKING an epic all along, doing multiple stories in ONE collection, ONE volume, with something for everyone. Obviously, this is the story, "Two Sides...", that will define the tone for the entire collection, and defines the two main players, Selina/Catwoman and Bruce/Batman. I always found that their relationship was the most complex, intricate and complicated of anyone's in the DC Universe. They're literally star-crossed lovers: neither one can commit to a relationship, yet they love each other so much. They've got so much in common, but who they define themselves as continually gets in their way. These two are the only constant in any of the stories that I write: otherwise, everything else is fair game. Every once in awhile, you'll see people popping up that will aid the plot and aid the developing characters, or, I'll have cameos of different people, like Harvey... In fact, I'm pretty sure there's going to be a guy named Jack Napier popping up sometime soon... After "Two Sides", I'll be working on the next story, "Fear Itself", incorporating the comic book and the _Batman Begins_ adaptation of our favorite Master of Fear, Dr. Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, so be on the lookout for that! Anyway, thanks for the review!

**Mitchit**- LOL well it's not: it's a multitude of different stories, all rolled into one! This is just the FIRST OF MANY stories, so don't sweat it. Just you wait, there's going to be more! Thanks for reviewing!

**Melissa**- Thank you! When I started this fiction, I wanted to do something that nobody else had done before: set up more of a "Cat meets Bat for the first time" deal. If you want to take this entire three-parter literally, I guess you could say that, more of anything, it's a Catwoman starting out sort of a story. It goes into her psyche, as will the other ones, and it shows you not only the Catwoman inside Selina Kyle, but also the Selina Kyle in Catwoman. It's that balance between the two sides of her that I wanted to show in this fiction, besides the obvious "Batman meets Catwoman" deal. As you can see from all the detail I put into Selina's side of things, I tend to be a bit of a feminist (can't help it, I'm a woman!), and I like showing women in stronger roles, but hopefully, this won't deteriorate from the story: I still love Batman more than (almost) anything, and I always will. You'll get some solid pieces from me in Bruce's POV, even if it's not entirely noticeable in this one. But yeah, Catwoman's our leading lady, so she'll pop up in every single piece, in some shape or form, and develop along the way! Thanks for the note!

**DarkTalwar84**- **THERE WILL BE MORE STORIES**! LOL! Heh, I never planned on only having three parts! Are you crazy? Of COURSE I was going to have more stories! LOL! This is just a three-part story FROM A MULTITUDE of STORIES, so don't worry: you're going to get more. Thank you on complimenting me too! I tried to make this story as authentic and as close to the comics (with my own little twist, of course) as possible. I'm happy that a comic lover such as yourself read everything I've written and didn't find any faults whatsoever in Bruce and Selina's interactions! I think I'm good on reactions and histories for the bad guys, but if I ever need any help, I'll be sure to ask you for help! Thanks for replying!

**Brainfear- **Thank you! And LOL about the Christian Bale thing... I still haven't seen Batman Begins, but from what I've seen, I love Christian in the role of Bruce Wayne/Batman. I really do, because he LOOKS the part, you know? Anyway, thank you for the review!

**Rebel-Aquarius-** Oh yeah, that's going to be a funny part! LOL! I think their relationship is so interesting, because you have to admit, they are literally, perfect together. It's not just Bruce/Selina or Batman/Catwoman, because you also have Bruce/Catwoman and Batman/Selina! They get each other on all levels: the only thing keeping them apart are their secrets and the law. And Yes, Harleen Quinzell is Harley Quinn, or rather, she will be, once I'm done with her. That will be an interesting transformation... And NO, I haven't, but I want to SO BAD! Thanks for the review!

To repeat what I've said before: **I AM WRITING MORE STORIES**! This piece that you're reading right now is just the** part** of the **FIRST STORY** in a long line of interconnecting ones, so don't worry: there's going to be more! I think the next one I shall tackle is the terrifying tale of Doctor Jonathan Crane, aka the Scarecrow. And no, I won't do the Joker right now: what would GK:Y1 be without a proper finale? Joker's climactic story shall come at the end, along with the birth of Harley Quinn and other such things... I do need to work him in somewhere, in an introductory fiction or so, because I want to put him **IN** Arkham before his big, HUGE debut... Anyway, don't worry: the so-called 'origin' stories if all the major bad guys shall be written in due time. When I get around to doing GK:Y2 (Yes, there WILL be a Year Two!) then I can screw around with characters, or do a few of the secondary villains. Also, I believe the only major bad guy I won't get to in GK:Y1 is Ra's al Ghul. Then again, you can't exactly pit Bruce against al Ghul this early in the game anyway, so I believe in Y2, Ghul is the first runner up. I'm thinking another three-parter, called either "Eternity" or "Demon" as the title at the moment (working titles at least), featuring al Ghul and his daughter, testing the skills of the "Detective", along with a few surprises... That fic, will be one of my tougher ones, besides the Riddler's, because of the detective aspects. Nygma's story will bust my brain because I have to CREATE the riddles he baffles everyone with, and probably twist my own brain in knots!

Just a side note, when you read this chapter, keep one very important thing in mind: Bruce is in his **first year** as the Batman. **First Year**, and yes, he is jaded, but he's not **THAT DARK** yet, and that is why at times, he shows a lighter side of his personality, especially in the form of Bruce Wayne. I draw heavily upon the comics, but I also draw a bit on another inspiration piece: the original Batman: the Animated Series, where Bruce is voiced by Kevin Conroy (I prefer the classic version with the brown suit coat, yellow shirt and slacks than the later version). When I think of a Batman that's just starting out, just spreading his wings, I tend to think of this portrayal especially: Bruce in the original animated series was funny, laid back, and when he needed to crack down and get serious, he did so. It's this sort of personality that I wanted to show in my series. He's still Batman, but he's also Bruce Wayne, and that's what makes him who he is: a very complex person/character.

Selina, also, follows this example. You see her budding a bit, via her interest in Batman, but nothing much yet. She'll grow into her own skin soon though... Right now, it's kind of nice to see what these two are like in the daytime, rather than during the night in costume.

**EDIT:** I JUST SAW _Batman Begins_ and I just have one thing to say about it:

THAT WAS SO INCREDIBLY COOL! Everything was just astounding, and I loved every aspect of it! AHHHHHHHHH I can die a happy Batman fan girl now! THAT was how the movies SHOULD BE, not Schumacher's poor excuses. Nolan's Batman was even better than the original two, and I LOVED IT! AHHHHHHHHHH now I want to get _BB_ on DVD! I also found it absolutely hilarious that Alfred, played by the amazing Michael Caine, was almost a perfect match to my cantankerous, yet amazingly wonderful, portrayal of our favorite butler. I find that hysterical!

**ADDITIONAL EDIT:** I've decided to extend the parts to 4 instead of 3. I have a feeling that if I added any more, it would be overkill for this part, so be on the lookout for the rest later on. Sorry it took me so long to write this!

Oh yeah, by the way, can anyone spot the two character cameos in this story?

Ok, I'm done now. You have _BB_ to thank for my inspiration! Enjoy!

* * *

He hoped she enjoyed the plates, but what he really wished was if she'd take work off tonight, the only night he'd have off from his rather eclectic job of crime fighting for quite some time, so they could spend some time getting to know each other. 

It wasn't the fact that she was beautiful that had attracted him to her. No, there was something else to Selina Kyle, something he'd never seen in any woman before, that made him feel completely comfortable. Since becoming Batman, he'd developed the habit of reservation, keeping the deepest corners of his mind off limits to even those he once trusted, but something about this one, single girl made him feel like blurting out the whole thing: his parents' deaths, the vow he made on their graves, the cape and cowl. She seemed like the one person who could understand him, who would accept him, and could be there when he needed her the most. For the first time in his life, he didn't have to fake a smile, or improvise a laugh to a joke that wasn't funny.

He actually liked having her around. She made him happy. And he only just met her today! Think of what a lifetime would accomplish!

Thirty minutes after he'd left, as soon as he was done placing the call, Bruce was so lost in his own thoughts that he barely noticed Alfred was talking to him in the car. "-and Mister Jones, why, he was such a spectacle that night. I almost complained about his severe lack of table manners..."

"Huh?"

The trusty butler glanced back at him through the rearview mirror and smiled slyly. "I believe the term for your condition is daydreaming, sir. Should I call the paramedics? I thought the Batman didn't do that sort of a thing."

"Ha, ha. Very funny, Alfred."

"If I may be so bold, Master Bruce, what were you thinking about?"

Knowing Alfred, if he really said what was on his mind, then he'd never hear the end of it; even if Alfred was the caretaker of his biggest secret, it was still playing with fire. "I was thinking about how much fun this board meeting was going to be."

"Excuse my rather harsh language, Master Bruce, but that's balderdash."

He snickered. "That's not a curse word, Alfred."

"For me, it is. Please, Master Bruce, indulge me. This is a very boring car ride, and I would appreciate the entertainment to keep myself occupied while waiting for a green light. You do know how long the lights are, and how bad the traffic is in Gotham City."

"You know me better than anyone in the world, Alfred," he teased, and smiled wistfully, almost dreamily. "I met a girl today."

"Master Bruce, you meet women everyday. They do tend to outnumber the male side of the species two to one."

"No, I mean, I really met a girl. Nice one. Smart, pretty, good sense of humor."

Alfred smirked. "Something that I miss when I am shining the scuff marks off of the exploding gas balls, sir."

He folded his arms behind his head and stuck his tongue out at his oldest friend, feeling childish for the moment. "Would you listen for a moment? I just met this girl, but I invited her to the dinner party tonight."

"But?"

"...She has to work. Just my luck. Hopefully though, she'll agree to meet me anyway. If she's too worried about missing her paycheck, I'm sure I could scrounge up however much it usually is, and slip it under the doorstep or something. It's not like I'm going bankrupt."

Alfred smiled wryly. "Oh, heaven forbid you lose the family fortune, sir. However, from what you're telling me of this lovely lady, she seems hardly the type to be bought out by the billionaire poster boy for Gotham Cty." The conversation paused for a few moments as the light turned green, and he made a quick turn to the left before heading onto Wayne Enterprises to drop off his charge. As he reached the front of the building, unlocked the doors and Bruce got out, the conversation continued through a window he powered down. "Is she the all elusive 'one', Master Bruce?"

That stopped him. Was she? True, he was having feelings for her that he'd never experienced before. Not really, anyway... but did that mean she was the one? "I... don't know yet. It's too early to tell."

The older man just nodded, his smile a bit wider. "When you see her again, and the day after that, and the day after that, Master Bruce, then you'll know. Oh, by the way," he snatched an expensive leather briefcase from the front seat, leaned over to the right as far as he could go handed it to him through the window, "don't forget your briefcase. There are several contracts in it that you will have to look over later, but all in all, it's not bad."

"I take it you read through them already."

"I was dusting, and they were on your father's antique oak desk. What else was there to do in the process of moving them, and putting them back exactly the way they were before?"

Bruce laughed, and patted the door, grinning. "You take care of me way too much."

"In all honesty, sir, there's nothing much else to do."

* * *

An hour and a half later on the top floor of Wayne Enterprises, his lazy eyes drifted towards his expensive, platinum wristwatch, noticing the time in its digital readout. Was it only twelve-thirty? Somehow, the time seemed to drag on and on, expanding and lengthening with every spoken word he had to choke down his auditory system. Absently drumming his fingers on his leather chair at the head of the meeting table, he tried not to sleep as he listened to Mr. Dennis Palmer of Paxton Artillery Industries plead his case to the board. 

Of course, the man was such a pompous, uppity man that the sound of his monotonous voice was enough to make any respectable man take a nap.

To keep that from happening, his eyes wandered around the spacious office arrangement, noting the sharp leather chairs were getting a bit worn along the seams. Making a mental note to have them reupholstered, strong fingers rubbed against the wood of the large, sixteen by four oval table, finished in a beautiful oak wood finish, the Wayne Enterprises symbol elegantly engraved in the middle. Solid and sound, just like it always was. It had withstood multiple bumps and scrapes, notches here and there that had been cuffed with something or another, but the surface was as beautiful as it was when he had it built. The drapes around the large, open windows were what he focused on next, a deep velvet red, with gold tassels and trim that shone in the morning light. He enjoyed the effect they had on the room, making it seem more cozy and comfortable for those who normally would go sit in a stark white room, in black chairs, and stare at wall space and a viewscreen only. The curtains worked wonderfully with the industrial, charcoal colored carpet, and muffled some of the noise the employees above and below them could make.

Eyes wandered again, this time, on the people that accompanied in the room. Consisting of sixteen trustees, managers and advisors, it was a variable army of differing opinions, backgrounds and ideas that drove the technological machine that was Wayne Enterprises. Out of the sixteen, eleven were completely trustworthy; five were only thinking of how much money they can make out of every deal and out of those five, he was pretty sure at least three of them were embezzling company funds into one variable project or another, for their own benefit. Only one out of them all he would trust with his life, and it was that person who he felt tap his wrist lightly, snapping his attention back to what was at hand.

Lucius Fox, his daytime partner-in-crime.

Mr. Monotone was making his final wrap-up of his case. "This is why, gentlemen, I severely implore you to sign a partnership contract with Paxton. With your help, we can develop new weaponry to arm our guards and city protectors, and protect them from the psychotic miscreants that seem to be multiplying in this city."

Bruce leaned back in his chair, taking in what little he heard and pretended to think about it long and hard. "Mr. Palmer, please understand, as much as we desperately need to keep our armed forces safe from dangers of any kind, Wayne Industries will not be responsible for anything in regards to weapons manufactoring. Since my father built this company from the ground up, there has been no means of producing weaponry, because it is too easy for these so-called 'safety measures' to fall into the wrong hands. Hate to say it, but there're some kids in Gotham who have handguns stashed in the back of their pickup trucks and in their glove compartments; dangerous guns that were supposedly only given to the police or other law enforcement."

One of the advisors, Randy Davis of the Industrial Technology branch, protested, his toupee having the annoying habit of flapping on his head as he shook his head. "Bruce, please, I think Mr. Palmer has a point. I mean, think about it: the guns are going to be made by someone, no matter who does it, and the police have to stay updated with all the changes that've taken place in the past few years. With newer guns, they can protect themselves from the perps, instead of relying on some vigilante hero that shows up whenever he damn feels like it."

_Mr. Davis was never a Batman fan_. Bruce countered his idea with logic, something he was starting to get the hang of. "However, guns in the wrong hands kill people, and all it takes is one wrong person to steal one gun. Just one, single person and that's all it takes for everyone to follow suit. You put a gun in a murderer's hands and what does he do? He uses it to kill people. I hate to say it, but even some of the cops are prone to shoot to kill instead of to disable. Whether it's one bad crook or one bad cop, the result's the same. And besides, I don't really think this is up for debate. I respect your opinion, but this is my decision, and I say no." He glanced towards Palmer, and nodded once in recognition. "My company, my father's company, won't be making the same thing that killed him, Mr. Palmer. However, you do bring up a good point in terms of law enforcement safety. If you would like to talk with Mrs. Lee," he pointed towards a distinguished, small woman in coke bottle glasses, her Asian features showing surprise at the mention of her name, "who is our Safety Affairs manager, she would be more than happy to hear any ideas or business deals in regards to that area. We can manufacture Kevlar products, such as vests or other such devices, and we'd love to do our part for our city in that way, instead of gun production. Please, have her secretary make you an appointment, and hopefully we shall hear from you soon. Miss Twitty, my secretary, can show you where to go on your way out."

The man just stared at him, obviously not used to getting refusals. "What?"

The billionaire rose, his feet carrying in to the man and he shook Palmer's hand. "I'm sorry, Mr. Palmer, but my answer is a no on the guns. Good luck in finding someone else."

The self-important, flabbergasted man just blinked, then scowled. "No?"

"No."

"You'll regret that, Wayne."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Only time will tell. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work. Miss Twitty?" he opened the door called to his secretary, winking at her. "Please show Mr. Palmer where the elevator is. It's a long ride down, and this building is so darned confusing at times..."

That taken care of, he quickly sat back down in his seat, now more attentive than he ever had been since arriving. "So, what next?"

A second ticked by before protests broke out like wildfire, slamming him from either side. "Wayne are you an idiot?" "That was a major deal!" "We could've made major investments in that case!"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, everyone. I can't hear a billion people at once. Yes, Mr. Davis?"

Davis's face was red with rage, his hands balling into fists and back again. "Wayne, are you insane? You just let the biggest weapons manufacturer slip right through the company's fingers!"

He shook his head, trying not to let himself feel like a child being punished for refusing to clean his room. "I made the right choice, Mr. Davis. Wayne Enterprises will not be spending its time manufacturing guns or any artillery of the sort. We deal in technology and science, like satellites, computer software, and flying cars."

Lucius took this moment to cut in. "Bruce, we don't make flying cars."

"Doesn't mean we're not working on it, or we couldn't. My point is --"

"With all due respect, Mr. Wayne," piped up Mrs. Roslyn Parris, head of the Social Sciences department, "As much as I hate to admit it, we could use the publicity. A merged project would create at least double the value in stocks and bonds for this company, and at least triple the interest. By my calculations, we could dominate the technologies industry by a vast margin if we had taken that deal. We'd make a hell of a lot more money than we are now."

"Stocks and bonds are nice, Miss Parris, but then again, I own a generous part of this company. Everything that you said just means I'm going to get richer, but that's not the point. What matters is Wayne Enterprises' future. My father wouldn't--"

"'Your father wouldn't', 'your father wouldn't'," mimicked a third, Chase Connelly of the Computer Electronics department. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but when are you going to stop doing what your father wanted to do? He's dead and gone, remember?"

Silence. It took every ounce of patience and self-control not to go Batman on his ass, and he was proud of himself when he replied, steely, "Mr. Connelly, can I see you outside, please?"

Connelly was frozen in place, meek as a mouse. "Me?" he asked, before trying to butter him up. "Me, sir?"

"Outside. Now."

Rising to his feet, he followed the older man outside the meeting room, and intentionally delayed his lecture once he was out there; Batman had taught him this method, a combination of self-torture and intimidation, and it worked well in both his lives.

Plus, he kind of enjoyed watching Connelly sweat.

"Well? Out with it, Bruce. I mean, we can't keep the rest of the board waiting. Some people have a job to do." His bravado was almost half-convincing; if he wasn't sweating and breathing hard, Bruce would've mistaken him for someone who actually knew what they were doing during an interrogation.

Dropping every single "gentlemanly" quality he had, his voice took on a harsher, almost cynical tone, not quite Batman, but not quite Bruce Wayne either. "Mr. Connelly, where in hell did you come up with that load of crap in there?"

"W-What? What did I say that wasn't the truth?"

"It's not what you said, but how you said it, Mr. Connelly. You spat everything out with venom, like it was poison. You said it with malice, mocking my father, and I will not have that sort of showboating displayed in my company, personnel, workers, advisors, managers, or otherwise. When I began running this company, I told you that you all could keep your jobs, as long as you followed my rules. And they were simple guidelines, Mr. Connelly, easy to follow, but you broke three: treat others with respect, don't bring family affairs into the office, and what was the third?"

Connelly shifted his feet, glaring down at the floor. "I don't know, sir, why don't you tell me?"

"Don't question my judgment on final issues, especially when I'm doing it in my father's name. It's because of his ethics that Gotham isn't littered with more handguns and grenades, and the streets aren't ablaze in fire and gasoline every night. Wayne Enterprises keeps this city running, keeps it going, keeps hope alive. And by making guns, guns that can be stolen and can be used in dangerous ways, now that is something that my father would be ashamed of. A gun in the wrong hands can do a lot of damage, Mr. Connelly: I've seen it. I was there when my parents were murdered in plain sight with a handgun. I've been shot at myself, from assassination attempts to misplaced bullets in the streets. I've seen what guns can do to people, to both the target and the shooter, and I will NOT have this company making more of them. Do I make myself clear?"

"...Crystal."

"Good. Now," Bruce spared a look towards his secretary. "Miss Twitty, would you do me a favor? Mr. Connelly is going to be going on a long vacation, about a week or so, whenever I can get around to ending it. Please make sure this week's paycheck, in full, makes it to him today, because he's going to need it. And Miss Twitty?"

Her eyes fluttered behind rose colored sunglasses. "Yes, sir?"

"Make sure you fill out one less check next week."

"Yes sir, Mr. Wayne."

* * *

Somewhere later, Selina had just finished polishing off the last batch of eatery before she noticed what time it was. "Harley! Why didn't you tell me it was twelve-thirty?" she yelped, glaring daggers at her friend perched on the barstool. "I've got to get to my second job in thirty minutes!" Furiously she snatched her apron off and grabbed her keys and her employee number off her assigned peg in the kitchen, scribbling down her times on the "time table" notepad. She called out, "bye Joey!" before scrambling to pick up her purse and get out the door. 

Harley, unfortunately, followed, placing a ten by her cup as payment for a two dollar coffee.

For once, the flustered waitress was glad to have taken Harl's advice and worn tennis shoes: her next job was halfway across Gotham, and in the traffic, that seemed to be more like a parking lot than a roadway, it was faster to move on your own two feet than wheels.

She broke out into an easy paced run, with Harley right behind her, barefoot. "You'll make it in time, Selina."

"Harley, what the hell are you doing? Where's your shoes?"

The blonde laughed heartily, and held up the hand that had her heels. "Can't run in these!"

"Take the car, you lunatic! What're you doing following me for?"

Harley shrugged, indifferent. "Seemed like a good idea at the time!"

Selina jumped a fire hydrant, avoiding the "No Parking" sign on the road before pretending to take a whap at her. "Get the car! I'll meet you on Highlander Street, ok? You can drive."

"Got it." That said, she was gone, giving one of her complimentary cartwheels in return before she went.

_That girl is going to be the death of me yet_, thought Selina, racing past a walking couple with a dog and watching the traffic, making sure it was ok before she crossed the intersection. _If she doesn't get herself killed and drag me with her, she's going to lose the car..._

Harley was always one of those sweet, random, happy go-lucky people, who just lit up whenever she smiled. She'd gained her nickname from the term harlequin, which seemed to describe exactly the kind of gal she was. If anything, life was always a bit more interesting when she was around.

Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't knuckle down when she had to. She took her job as a psychological intern seriously, especially since it was the one, steady job that seemed to be making all the money for the two of them. Because she liked psychology, and was good at it to boot, Harl was getting paid to learn from the best, and this new internship at Arkham would be perfect for that extra boost they'd need, come rent time.

All in all, Selina was glad she'd met Harleen Quinzell, for the one, brief month they were in high school together,in the same physical education class, before the former dropped out due to "insufficient funds".

She rounded a corner, screaming "watch it" to some fancy pants in a red convertible, who had almost run her over. Gotham seemed to be getting worse by the moment. Now it was the rich people committing the crimes and trying to get away with it. Making a face, she stood up a little straighter, walked a bit prouder, trying to make herself look like this sort of thing didn't bother her. But anyone who knew her could tell that she hated it.

What was it about this city that made all the nasty people come out and play? It seemed like everywhere she turned, someone was getting murdered or mugged in the darkness, sometimes both. The streets were getting dirtier, the people were getting meaner, even the air carried the stench of fear and suffering...

Shivering, she tried not to think about it; how it had been her a few years back, living on the streets, selling herself for a wad of cash to anyone who wanted a joyride. The memories didn't fade, like she thought they would; they stuck like superglue, flashing in and out whenever she had a free moment of peace in her mind. Thank God she didn't live like that anymore, and she had Harley to thank for making sure she never had to slip back down to that low again. That wasn't the way to make cash and pay for your future: not the right way, anyway.

Of course, things had gradually gotten better. It was a slow, tedious process, but it was happening, thanks to the new protector of Gotham.

Selina herself wasn't much into vigilantes. Never really cared for them, but she approved of the work they did. Hey, if it would make her feel safer around people, she was all for it. However, this new guy, this Batman person... something about him piqued her interest. Was it the cape? The cowl? What kind of a person would chose to become a vigilante, and what drove him towards that choice? The more she asked questions, the more she craved to know the answers. She'd never met him in person, but she heard about him all the time. On the news, from word of mouth... there were too many to name. People said he was a creature, some sort of biologically mutated bat monster, but that seemed unlikely. If he was, why would he hide behind a mask? No, he was not a creature, but aman, and a spectacular, fearless one at that.

He'd have to be, if Gotham was his playground.

Distracted, she almost ran herself into the old '96 Toyota her roommate and she owned. "Get in, Selina!" yelled Harley through the open window. "Punch it, or else you'll be late!"

_Duty calls_, she mused, before opening the door and hopping in. "Next stop, Alderman's Bookstore!"

* * *

The meeting was finally done and over with, and, retiring to his office, Bruce was glad for it. He was starting to get a migraine from the endless questions and propositions from a variety of different sources: from his advisors, the managers, himself. It was something that made him ponder why he couldn't just take a vacation. Or, at least, prowl the streets looking for trouble. 

It was one of those rare moments where he actually wished he was Batman 24/7. Of course, that would mean giving up the Bruce Wayne persona, and he wasn't ready to do that yet. Besides the obvious benefit of warding off any suspicions people would have about him being Batman, Wayne could go places Batman could not: out into the daylight, for instance. He could look around, listen, and blend in with the rich crowd with no one the wiser. And, of course, billionaires always got the ladies' attentions.

No, as much as he was Batman, he was Bruce Wayne as well.

Lucius broke him out of his daze with snapping fingers, and it took Bruce a moment to realize that he'd been standing there for at least a minute. "Bruce? Are you alright?"

He focused his eyes on the black man, and gave him a big smile. "Sorry. Daydreaming again, I suppose."

Chuckling, the other didn't seem to mind, and nodded. "Of something or someone?"

"You're as bad as Alfred."

"Maybe the reason why is because we're both trying to figure out if we should sing Hallelujah, or scratch off the latest new date on the list."

"Ha, ha, very funny. Now, what's up? What do you need?"

Lucius tried to hide his smile with a hand, while he slapped a file folder on Bruce's desk with the other. "The Anderson case again."

He groaned. "Not again."

"Again. Apparently, a Mr. Thomas Anderson doesn't take no for an answer."

"How many times do I have to tell them that Wayne Enterprises will not sell that property, just so Anderson can build a mini mall on top of it?"

The Vice-President shook his head. "Tell that to him before he mows the entire park down with a bulldozer."

"If he did that, he'd break the Fourteenth Constitutional Amendment, and that's enough grounds for a court case itself. We bought Martha's Park to give it to the kids in that area, and it's going to stay that way. Hate to admit it, but that's why I didn't hand it over to the state: if you ask me, they don't give a damn about the people, only their own interests, and what means will bring them more revenue."

"Careful Bruce," a hand placed itself on his shoulder, "or else you're going to run into a whole hell of a lot of trouble. I know you're not one for authority, but--"

"I was never one for authority, not if it wasn't my own. I'm sorry, Lucius, but as much as I love living in this city, in this country... our politicians are dishonest, the systems that try our criminals are media circuses using a flawed method of justice, and I'd rather just live by my rules instead of theirs." Shrugging off the hand, he made his way to a large, open window in the back and leaned his head against it, enjoying the late morning sunshine on his face. "I feel safer that way."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you and Batman are a lot alike, Bruce. He doesn't think much of the justice system either. But you have to understand, the methods we use have withstood time, and if we change everything about it now, we might have an even more screwed up way of going about every little case and crime. Yes, it's flawed, but then again, who's perfect? What ever is? Everything has its flaws Bruce: the judicial system, the country, me, you."

"Ain't that the truth," mumbled the billionaire, finally turning to look at his friend. "I understand what you're trying to tell me, Lucius, and you make a pretty good argument, I'll give you that. But sometimes, I feel like the way the world works shouldn't function like that. I mean, I do the best I can with what I have: I take care of kids through the Wayne Foundation, I help out at the local shelters when I have the time, I even sponsor a special ballpark night for the hospital kids every month the baseball season starts. I give the ok to build places where people can live in peace, and parks like Martha's Park to play in. But sometimes, I don't think that's enough."

Lucius smiled warmly, sauntering around the desk to give him a pat on the shoulder. "Me either, Bruce, and you're right, sometimes what we do isn't enough. Sometimes we all want to go above the law, to carry things out the way we want them to. But we can't all be Batman."

No," he murmured, and stared right back at the window, "we can't."

* * *

"Can you put this book on reserve for me? I need to get my mommy to pay for it." 

She was an adorable little five-year-old, barely able to peek above the counter she worked at, and Selina couldn't help but grin at her. How cute! She was so adorable in her little braided pigtails, and rosy cheeks the color of her cherry red jumper! "Sure, honey. Don't be too long though, or else I'll have to put it back."

"Okay!" came the reply, and the child ran off, leaving her alone to sigh in discontent. Harley had ran off with the car once she'd dropped her off, most likely to do all the paperwork she'd need to get transferred into Arkham, and there was hardly anyone else in the store, only an elderly woman reading the latest trashy romance novel; the girl and her mother, now off in the travel section; and a man in the back with his nose buried in a large joke book.

It was one o'clock, and she still had about four hours to go before starting job number three. And from what Morrie said earlier, she'd be working on that job for quite a long time. Oh well, the more she worked, the more she got paid, right?

Joke Book Guy had started walking towards her, and he set the book he had with him on the counter. "I'd like to buy this."

"Sure," she replied briskly, planting a smile on her face and scanning it into the register. Hitting the total button, she read off the price. "That will be $26.69, sir."

He fumbled with his wallet a bit when he pulled it out, sending a few receipts fluttering to the floor. "Great, just what I needed..." Placing a credit card on the register, his quick fingers began collecting the scraps of paper while she swiped the card through the right machine. "My wife's having a baby," he mumbled, most likely making conversation to distract himself from his task. "I wanted to make sure I had a few good jokes to tell him or her when they arrive."

"Aww, that's sweet..." When he got to his feet, she pointed to the viewscreen on the Credit Card checker. "Sign on that dotted line with the stylus, and you should be ready to go."

Nodding, he did as he was told, and before long, the bill popped out of the register. Tearing it off, she put it and the book in a bag, closed it up, and smiled broadly at him. "Here you go, Mr. Napier. Have a good day."

"You too," he smiled a half-smile back, and strode out the door...

...And almost crashing into a redheaded woman in a lab coat bustling in, jostling the precarious pair of glasses on the bridge of her nose. "Watch where you're going! Don't you see I'm in a hurry?" she hollered at him, before immediately darting towards Selina. "Listen, do you have any informative books about the rare _Lilium lancifolium_ that was just discovered a few weeks ago in Africa? Or anything about the tribe _Orchidae_ in the _Orchidoidae_ family?"

"Ok, for a second there, I thought you said orchids." Why did she get all the weirdoes?

Redhead fumed a bit, obviously a bit persnickety with people who weren't "on her level" on intelligence. "Yes, I am talking about orchids, a specific type of orchids in a specific type of phylum."

"A fie-what?"

"You know what? Forget it. I'll find it myself."

"Weird," she replied, watching her saunter off, her long, white lab coat swishing back and forth with the way she walked. It's people like that that the world didn't need more of. Who did she think she was, better than her, the cashier? Disgusted, Selina started resorting the candy display, furious. _Some people don't know how to play nicely with others_, she thought. _Damn, this was going to be a long day...

* * *

_

Three hours stuck in an office was enough to drive him crazy, and with the mounds of paperwork and contracts that he had to read, reread, and sign on each dotted line were expanding Bruce's already severe migraine. After Lucius had left, he'd hunkered down, a stack of things to look through about a foot and a half high resting patiently on his desk. Before that morning, it had only been a foot high, But slowly, day by day, the stack grew and shrank; for every contract he signed or shredded, two more seemed to take its place in his "in" box.

Was it time to go yet? He checked his watch: four o'clock. For once, he wanted to party.

His jacket pocket vibrated, almost startling him as his phone beeped in unison.

Automatically knowing it would be Alfred, he flipped open the phone and put it to his ear. "Is it time to go yet?"

"Honestly, Master Bruce, I could have sworn you were still eight years old."

"Hello to you too, Alfred."

He could hear the older man sigh on the other end. "Hello, sir. And yes, actually. The caterers will be coming within the hour. Your tux is laid out on your bed, and I do hope that it still fits from the last time you wore it."

Bruce chuckled, setting his pen down and gathering his things, anxious to leave. "Oh, I don't think that's a problem, Alfred. I always manage to find the time to stay in shape. It'll fit fine."

"Good. Now, it would be most appreciated if you could come home, and fit yourself into it. The catering service will arrive within the next hour or so, and we still need to set out the tables and chairs for all the guests in the ballroom. I shall call the car rental service and arrange for a pick-up, if you'd--"

"Thanks, Alfred," he interrupted, "But I have a ride home."

"You... do, sir?"

"I've got a spare convertible in the garage down below. I'll be fine."

"I'll be waiting for you here, sir."


	3. Two Sides, Two Stories PT 3

**KaliAnn**- I have no idea. I guess anyone who wants to make a buck or two would push their products onto the market, even though they can destroy lives. Why do you think drug dealers are so freakin' rich? And yeah, I think Bruce is making the right decision too. He never struck me as the kind to fold on his beliefs just to make money: He's rich enough as it is! And it's kind of funny that Bruce's views on the justice system is actually mine. I do think it's flawed, and sometimes I do think it's a media circus. Why do you think that TV glorified the Terri Schiavo case? Disgusting. The media should've just butted out, and let each side deal with it in private, instead of publicly announcing every twist and turn. Sheesh... Justice is flawed, ladies and gentlemen, and sometimes, it isn't just, that's just how our American legal system works. LOL Alfred is a load of laughs for me. I literally have Michael Caine's persona channeled through Alfred, wry humor included, and I have to say, besides Bruce and Selina, Alfred is my absolute most favorite character to write for. I absolutely adore that old man! No, Selina can't catch a break, but that will quickly change in the near future. She'll suddenly have her nights free. And yeah, I mean, if you think about it, Selina is perfect for Bruce, in every way: it's just the law and Bruce's way of pushing every loved one away, his solitude, that makes the relationship fall apart. You'll see where the relationship takes them in the stories to come. Also, you have to remember, Bruce isn't Batman yet. He's not FULLY Batman, and he's still learning the ropes, so he'll be doing some rather "un-Brucelike" things, both in and out of costume. And I agree: _Batman Begins_ **KICKED MAJOR BUTT**. OMG, I absolutely loved it! I had some minor nitpicks with it, mainly because I'm a comics buff, but overall, it was absolutely amazing. WOW! Spectacular! Thanks for the review!

**bigguy204**- I do this every single time I post a fiction chapter: it's a way for me to talk with you guys, one on one, and lets you all know how much I appreciate the reviews that you leave. And, plus, think of this as sort of a "behind the scenes" sort of a deal: you guys get to know a bunch of stuff before I write it, and hints of what is to come in the chapters or parts ahead, and that's something special. Not many writers will delve so deeply into the fictions that they do, but when they do... you get a lot more than you asked for. Yeah, I was proud of myself when I thought of how to connect each of the characters to each other: putting Harvey in there as Bruce's good friend (which he was in the comics, so it was only natural to slip him in there somewhere), Harley's Selina's roommate, the cameos of Poison Ivy and the Joker before they're who they are (which reminds me, you get a cyber cookie for correctly recognizing them both!) and, of course, Selina catering at Bruce's party, after they both met for the first time. I think it gives the fiction more realism when events like this happen, and it's nothing big, nothing you would normally think of. Unpredictability is a powerful element in real life, and I hope I succeeded in bringing that into this fiction. It makes things interesting, that's for sure! When I saw _Batman Begins_, I was just as surprised as you were that I nailed Michael Caine's interpretation of our fabulous, favorite butler. I was **FLOORED**, and down right **delighted** too! Just the fact that I see Alfred in the same way Michael Caine does is enough to make me burst out in pride. And he did an excellent job too! Anyway, **ME**? **ME** write a Batman movie? I could only dream lol! But thank you, thank you! That's the highest praise I could have ever received! I do my best to stay within the continuity, never venturing too far out of it, and making it as real as possible, so to be able to even get praise as high as "you should've written _Batman Begins_" is absolutely mind blowing for me! Goyer did an excellent job in writing it though, I will say that, and like I said before in part one, this is only the beginning. It's only one chapter in a multitude of stories that I'll do (most likely about 13-20 in all this "season": you have to remember, I plan on writing Year Two and possibly beyond as well!) so in a way, this is a work in progress. Wait until Year One is over, and then we'll see how much of it's movie material lol! Thank you very much for the review!

**Moonjava**- LOL you're right, third time is a charm! Glad you were finally able to make the review writer thingie work! And I totally get where you're coming from: I too, absolutely loved the animated series, as well as Batman Beyond (BTW, check out Justice League Unlimited's episode "Epilogue": it's a strictly Batman Beyond that is JUST WILD! As soon as I finish my latest TT story, I was thinking of doing a spinoff sort of fiction on that ep, "Epilogue", with a created character I had in my head for a couple days.. How would you like to see a daughter of Superman and Lois Lane?). And actually, Kevin Conroy's interpretation of Batman in the original series is the one I follow. He steadily grew darker and darker as the years went on, but whenever I think of Bruce Wayne, I think of the original series. That might be why you enjoy THIS fiction so much: it's more like a retelling of the series. And like I told bigguy, I go for continuity. Almost all of this stuff as far as personality goes is my interpretation of the characters, and more often than not, they follow exactly along with either the comics, the animated series, or both. I've spun it to where it fits my world, where it can and will change and shift, but there's still going to be elements to tie in with the continuum DC has provided: Harley Quinn is still going to fall in love with the Joker, Bruce and Selina are still going to love each other in both their identities, without even knowing it, Poison Ivy, the Joker, and Two-Face are still going to show up... I make this story the absolute best it could possibly be, and to tell you the truth, I can tell a difference. This story, _Gotham Knights: Year One_, feels different to me than my Teen Titans fictions. When I write TT, I only write what I would like to see, purely for my enjoyment. But with this one, I'm not only doing it because I have always wanted to do a Batman fiction, but when I'm writing it, I don't just write what I want to see. I see the characters, yes, I hear them saying what I want them to say, but in every word I write, I put my whole heart into it. I don't just see the characters: I respond and react to them as if they were talking directly to me. I nail the observations because I put MYSELF in that position, like I'm an integral part of the story. I see everything that happens in this fiction, and LIVE it, which is an amazing thing, let me tell you. And I think you can TELL a difference, since I know you've read my TT works too. This is bigger, this is better, this is so much greater in perspective, in work, in ability, and I have to say, I think it's one of the best projects I have ever worked on, not to mention one of the best I have ever created. I could let it sit for two, three days, and then jump back into it with my heart completely in it, and it takes a really, REALLY SPECTACULAR work to do that. Yes, it does mean that you might have to wait for a long time for the next part, but it's the time and effort that makes this so worth while to me, and also, most likely to you guys too. BTW, you're absolutely right: Christian Bale was perfect as Bruce and Batman! Thank you for your fantastic review!

**Dlsky** (on chapter 1)- Yeah, well, that peak was for what's coming UP in the story, not how it began, but I'm glad you're enjoying it all the same! I'll have to tweak the little, minor details here and there in that section, but all in all, I'm happy with the way it turned out. Yeah, I believe it was almost a month between the first part and the second part, and hopefully it won't be as long when I post this one. It took me a total of about 18 pages to tell the first part, an additional 13 for the second, and sometimes, it takes awhile for things to come forward and make themselves known. When I started writing the second part, I didn't know that Connelly was going to be suspended without pay: heck, the character of Connelly didn't even enter my mind until it just happened. I knew I wanted to show Bruce in the daylight, not just the night, so it seemed like a good time for him to stretch his executive muscle, so to speak. One of the things I didn't think was very realistic in the animated series (probably my only gripe about it, really) was that it never showed Bruce actually participating in his company. He supposedly owns Wayne Enterprises, he's the CEO, and so what does he do at his office? How long does he spend there? Who does he talk to? What issues do they talk about? So I wanted to incorporate all of these things in with that chapter, before I have him turning all Batman on you. Some fictions will take place mostly in the daytime, like this one, and some will be strictly during a 12 hour night, or a series of nights. I don't know: those ideas will just have to come when they can. It's the only bad thing about my talents: they tend to pop up with brilliant inventions at random times lol! Anyway, I think I like that too: showing everyone in their nice, normal environments before everything goes south, and Gotham REALLY has a big problem on their hands. Thank you for the review!

**Ratdogtwo**- Thank you! I tried to make sure that everyone stayed in character, and stayed true to the comics and the animation series, and I think I succeeded! And YAY! You get half a cyber cookie for guessing Poison Ivy! You're absolutely right! Thank you for the review!

**brainfear**- Oh yeah, that will be good... I distinctly recall a thrown glass of champagne in there somewhere... thank you for reviewing!

**Jade121-**Yeah, the party scene will be interesting, that's for sure! And you're right, she's not Catwoman yet: for the moment, she's just Selina Kyle. That will change, you can be on it! Thanks for reviewing!

**JRK-** LOL, sorry to keep you waiting for so long, but here you are, the third part of the first story! Enjoy! Thanks for reviewing!

**Lady Mokodane-** Thank you! Yeah, the Smallville theme was what I was going for, and I think I hit the nail on the head with this fiction. And what's even better is I love doing this: I want to write more stories and the more I write, the better! Thank you for the review!

**Serve the Abbalah**- Yeah, but still, things continue and progress, and yes we know people are going to go nuts, but... when is that going to be? Am I going to put together Two-Face now? Is he going into the next "episode"? Or Poison Ivy? That's what's so fun about introducing the duality of all these characters: you never know when they're going to change and become Harley Quinn, or the Joker, or even Catwoman and Batman. The only one that's set up for that is Bruce: we already know he's Batman at this stage, but we don't know when Ivy, Harvey, etc., will change. I like to keep you guys on your toes, and plus, who's to say this didn't happen in the comics? How do we know that these characters had never met each other before they became villains or heroes? Very few of them have that sort of a relationship with each other (the only one I can think of is Harvey and Bruce) and it was something I wanted to experiment with. I'm just glad it worked lol! Thanks for reviewing!

**LJP**- Thank you very much for the review! Glad you enjoy it!

**Rebel-Aquarius**- Thank you very, very much! I've seen some great work here on but to be called one of the best is a high honor! I'm glad you enjoy the works that I do, and everything I've done with them. And yes, you're right: they're making a Batman Begins Sequel, not one but TWO of them, which makes this Batman fangirl EXTREMELY happy (I LOVED BB to death!) and she might have to go into that type of Batman fiction sometime later. But, yeah, anyway, I think they're planning on having either the Joker as the lesser evil in the first one and then more prominent in the second, or Two-Face prominent in the first or and less in the second. Or Vice versa, I'm not exactly sure. They've got a few choices for Joker, one of them being Crispin Glover (The Creepy Thin Man from the Charlie's Angels movies) and... MARK HAMMIL (the Joker's cartoon voice actor) as well! I personally would love to see Mark do BB2, but not sure if he can because of his age. He's not exactly the spry chicken from Star Wars anymore lol! Anyway, thank you for the review!

**Dlsky-**That is EXACTLY what you're supposed to be seeing: a SimGotham, basically, everyone's daily life in the eyes of Bruce Wayne and the various characters of Gotham City! I distinctly wanted that realistic feeling because that is what defines the Batman comics and the entire franchise: you can SEE what's going on, RELATE to the characters, and FEEL like you're actually there, in the story, with them. I'm doing Batman right, basically, when I give you details and descriptions: you can see what's going on. I thought Ivy's entrance was pretty well done myself. Catwoman and Ivy were always at odds with each other, no matter what was going on. As villainesses, they liked to do things solitary, going after what they want, when they want it and they'd rather duke it out over who's going to steal a piece than working together to steal it! Also, I think what I wrote was because I had recently read the first Hush series volume: there's a part in there where Catwoman was forced to steal for Ivy because of Ivy's pheromones. Because of that, Catwoman held a grudge for most of the graphic novel against her! Now that I own the Hush Series (first ever graphic novels I've bought that weren't Japanese manga comic books lol) I'll also be relating to that and using that as a source for Catwoman's interactions with others, as well as Batman's reactions to her. Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

Ok, before I say anything else, I want to personally say: **I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!** I've been extremely busy with various things, including three other huge projects that have been taking up my time. That, and we were on vacation, and now I have babysitting, and doing laundry... I'm generally worn out by the end of the day. Creatively speaking, I've been pretty much worn to my limit. When I don't feel like writing, I won't do it, no matter what's going on or what needs to be done. My other projects have sapped so much of my creative mind that I haven't really had time to think of anything else. Plus, these _GK: Y1_ stories take **A LONG TIME** to write. When it's a good day, I can write ten pages and beyond. When it's a bad one, I can barely type a line. My point is, it takes time for me to even think of what to do and how to go about it, so that's why there's been about a month delay in between the parts. I know you guys are thirsty for more, and you're dying to know what happens next, but I'm sorry if I'm not typing this out fast enough for you guys to devour. I just can't do it sometimes.

I will say this though: although I love this first story, it's my "starter", my "breakout" story, I'm in the mood to switch gears and write something different than just Bruce and Selina. So hopefully, when I can, I'll be kicking into high gear and getting the fourth and final part to my story done before the end of August. I want to start writing the second "episode", "Fright Night" in October since, duh, it's the month of All Hallow's Eve: Halloween. Who is it featuring? You guessed it: Scarecrow.

Anyway, I really appreciate all the reviews guys. I mean it, it's one of the things that makes fiction work so enjoyable for me! Enjoy the third Act of "Two Sides, Two Stories".

OH, and BTW, a side note: I made up Tim Drake's middle name. I really don't know what it is, or if it's ever been revealed. And the whole Harvey/Ivy thing? That's animated series canon for you, folks. And shame on me: I used a line similar to Andrea Beaumont's in _Mask of the Phantasm_. Hey, it was an awesome line!

Anyway, here we go!

* * *

_Oh crap, oh crap, OH CRAP!_ she thought in her mind, as Selina raced to pick up her purse behind the counter. _How the heck did four PM come so fast?_ Frantic, she called over her shoulder to Sadie her co-worker that she was leaving, trusting her to finish up and take care of the newest editions of some book series or another; she couldn't remember what they were for, just that it wasn't her problem at the moment.

She was supposed to be at her catering job ten minutes ago. How did she lose track of time that fast? Morrie was going to kill her for being so late this time. The old Irishman was a stickler for punctuality, and she knew he wasn't going to give her a fifth chance after this. He had been lenient the first time, even the second, but the third and now the fourth? She was lucky the last time: suspension without pay promised her enough trouble on the rent's due date, but she'd gotten another week's extension. Now... what would happen now? Would he fire her? Suspend her again, this time, for a month? Fire her?

Getting fired would be the least of her problems. Debt would make sure of that.

Selina hustled out the door as best she could, almost running smack dab into a few people coming in. "Sorry!" she yelped, without looking back, her quick strides already carrying her further and further into the dingy, darkening streets. Surprised to see the sun setting so quickly, she blinked, trying to get her eyes adjusted to the night time she hadn't even known was descending. She'd been working for so long in that relatively book store she hadn't even realized it; there were hardly any windows except for the front ones, and those were always kept with the blinds closed. Plus, tending to customers all day long, in and out, was enough to dull one's senses to everything that wasn't in the immediate vicinity.

She hated that feeling of not knowing what was going on, what was happening out there, in a world of promise, without her.

Streetlights began humming to life in front of her, and she barely noticed. Not like they would do any good one way or another; Gotham was a city full of darkness, one that barely any lights could cut through. Those seem to be a dying breed these days: lights in the darkness. If you could count them, even these scant, few streetlights were slowly disappearing, breaking under pressure or stolen, taken out from their rightful places without warning, only to be found at a pawn shop down the street for twenty bucks. And, even then it was a fifty-fifty shot if it still worked the same way ever again.

Then again, the shadows on the streets didn't scare her. No, her enemies were the ones found in the daytime: debt, politicians, sales corporations, the IRS. There was nothing she could do to get away from that, seemingly nothing that could let her rise above it, even for a moment. But here, in the darkness... that was a whole new ballgame. She felt different here, like she was in her element; it gave her confidence when it shouldn't have, a cocky, bold disposition that she could have sworn had never had been there before. Something about the night time seemed right to her, like it was her place, and she thrived in it. No one could mess with her here, no one could touch her if she didn't want to be touched. She could defend herself with every single boxing and kick boxing technique she knew from Ted, as well as anything she picked up over her nineteen years of life, five of them spent here, on these very same streets. It was very, very hard to catch her off-guard, and those that were unlucky enough to learn that never messed with her again afterwards.

Her mind wandering, her attentive eyes caught sight of something moving in a pile of old boxes in a dingy alley. Stopping, quick footsteps brought her over, and she hunkered down, squatting to look at what caused the disturbance. The sight made her heart break.

A small child was face down on the ground, the dirt clinging to every tendril and orifice of her hair and skin like a permanent glaze. An Asian American with a cherub face, her eyes were closed with her tongue sticking out like a pink flag. Rags that would barely warm a dog were wrapped tightly around her body, now loosening with Selina's warm touch. The teen took this child in her arms and cradled her slightly, feeling the sickening cold of death creep through the cloth remains. No...

Tears formed in her eyes as she carefully placed the child back down, resting her tiny body upon a wall of the alley next to a dumpster. "Poor thing, froze to death..." she murmured sadly, stroking the small face with a kind hand. She didn't deserve this, no one did...

She blinked back her crying long enough to draw herself away. Standing, fury began its climb, and she punched the dumpster hard enough to make an almost microscopic dent in the side, her knuckles coming away bloody and raw. Damn the city for their negligence! Damn Gotham for doing nothing when someone needed help! No one deserved the street life, no one...

This child's life cut too close to her own, in more ways than one. Involuntarily, Selina was driven right back into memories she would've rather forgotten of a lifetime ago. Like all stories, it started out like a fairy tale, absolutely perfect in every way it could be. Her father, Brian, was compassionate, her mother Maria doting, and her sister Maggie absolutely adored her. She could have everything she ever wanted whenever she wanted it, as long as it was within reason. To this day, she could still hear her father laughing in delight at her every request, before pulling her into a bear hug that no one could match. She was so happy then, so free, and alive...

But like all fairy tales, sooner or later, they all had to come to an end. For her, it started with the drinking.

Before long, that was the only thing her father did: drink. Instead of working, Selina saw him on the couch more and more, watching sports with a beer or a bottle of liquor in his hands. Her mother tried everything she could think of to get him motivated, even started going to work herself, to provide for her family, but it was no use. Things began to fall apart for them, as the wallpaper on the walls began to rip and curl, the corners of the room were filled with cobwebs, dirt littered the floor and caked on the carpets.

Then, it happened. A simple argument escalated from screaming and slurred words to physical abuse in seconds flat, leaving her with a bruise on her cheek and horror in her eyes. Her father, ironically, didn't think much of "the Incident", writing it off as something she deserved, but it was completely different for her: it strengthened her already growing feelings of escape.

Then, she was granted her wish one day, during her twelfth birthday. She had celebrated it as best she could, receiving meager gifts from her sister and mother, when her father gave her something entirely different: a few good smacks across the face, to remind her that he was watching television at the time and shouldn't be disturbed. Her mother, bless her heart, had had enough of his drunken antics, and chose this day to stand up for her girls and for herself, confronting her husband and daring him to hit her. No more violence, she had said, would be tolerated in this house. Little did she know that she would make good on her promise.

He hit her once, twice, fifteen times. She took it, with grace and dignity, and kept coming. Eventually, he had beaten her so severely, she could barely stand. Crying, crawling to the laundry room, she apologized to her girls for everything that happened or would happen, and shut the door.

Selina found her the next morning, her body swinging freely from the rafters with they laundry cord they used to use pulled tight around her neck.

Horrified, as soon as her father saw the damage, he began to drink again, only this time, he didn't stop as soon as he was intoxicated beyond any normal level. He took it as a sign of weakness and drank again, until the bottle slipped from his lifeless hand and shattered on the floor with a thunderous clank.

Social Services stepped in then, separating Selina and Maggie from each other and placing each one in a separate place: Selina went straight to an orphanage, Maggie in a foster home. Then, finally, after a single night in the care of strangers, Selina slipped away, becoming just another faceless homeless in a city full of despair.

She tried everything: stealing for food, dumpster diving, pawning things for money at a local pawn shop. She picked locks and pilfered valuables, tried selling her body at strip clubs and finding herself chickening out on prostitution.

It wasn't until he came along that she stopped living a life she was never born to live.

Ted Grant, alias Wildcat, a superhero down on his luck and with no one to watch his back. It was him who she tried to steal from one cold night in December, when he was walking home from his boxing/karate dojo downtown. She had barely placed fingers in his pockets when she found herself on the damp, cold pavement, looking up at a rough and gruff man who turned out to be her savior. He asked her where she lived, and she said everywhere: Gotham was her playground. When he responded with she could've done better, she told him she couldn't: there was nothing a girl like her could do, and no one gave her a second chance.

But he did.

It began with a bet: how long could she go without stealing? Without picking pockets or locks? First, it was nothing more than a simple day. Then, days became weeks, weeks, to months, until she had stopped completely, pleasing the man she considered to be like a father. In return for her promises, he instructed her in the ways of boxing and kick boxing, moving from the physically demanding sport to brief periods of cerebral karate for short amounts of time. He taught her to think on her feet, to protect herself, and she was diligent at it.

Eventually, however, another fairy tale closed its cover, and she found herself out in the world yet again, forbidden to come back unless she really needed it and for lessons. Only this time, she was better off than she had been before: a year's tuition to Gotham U. was in her pocket and enough money for a decent apartment. It had been hers on one solid condition: she was never going to sulk back into the life she had before, no stealing, no strip clubs, no homelessness. And she hadn't in the two years since then.

Snapped out of her thoughts, she focused on the present again, shaking out the cobwebs. Those times were gone, and she knew that they were, but sometimes, especially now, with this little child... sometimes it felt like it was barely yesterday when she was out here in the gutter.

Something made a squeaking sound to her left, and she turned, curious. What was...? It came again, and this time, a small, triangular little pink nose stuck itself out form behind a box, a pair of green and yellow eyes and a small black body following closely behind. Selina smiled, and held out a hand to the tiny creature, only stroking it softly when it let her. "Is this your kitty?" she asked the child, sitting down on her knees and plunking the cat in her lap. She snuggled against Selina, like they had known each other their whole life and purred.

The woman cuddled it, petting its velvety black fur, and smiled. Well, both Harley and herself were considering on getting a pet, and she did love cats... She grinned, and gathered the kitty in her arms, making sure it was safe and sound and not in the way of her purse. Morrie really WAS going to kill her after this... She tucked the feline under her arm and searched through her purse with both hands, looking for her new cell phone, an unfortunate but pleasant result of getting the apartment's phone line deactivated. A speed dial later, she was in touch with her roomie. "Harley? Come pick me up at," she glanced at the road sign a block or so from her current location, and started walking that way, "Gotham State Avenue and Masons Street, ok? I'm late for work, so haul ass. Ok? Got it. Bye." Looking back over her shoulder at the child, she smiled, and readjusted the cat in her arms. "Thank you for the kitty," she replied.

* * *

_Today was a good day_, Bruce thought, waiting for the red light to change as he strummed his fingers against the steering wheel of his Ferrari. Yes, for Bruce Wayne, today was a golden opportunity that he gladly grasped: he'd weeded out a bad apple in his ranks at the office, fought and won against someone who wanted so desperately to usurp his lands, and even met a beautiful woman that he hoped to see tonight.

What was more surprising to him than anything was that Batman was staying silent throughout his personal indulgence. Usually, his alter ego would've stopped him by now, and instead, moved on with more important things: murder, terrorism, petty theft, anything that would put Gotham ahead of anything Bruce Wayne could devise to satisfy being the billionaire playboy everyone took him to be.

He was still getting used to being Batman, in all honesty, despite his heart and soul readily put forth into his... well, his job. Ever since his parents died, he wanted something more, something to fulfill a gap within his soul that he'd never noticed before. He needed to be more than himself, more than just a man, and if by risking his life and limb every night to avenge his parents was the way he was going to go about it, then so be it. Never questioning his own judgment, every night he spent in that costume was another night towards becoming... exactly what, he didn't know. Sometimes that scared him; he could feel it, something inside, changing him, molding him, creating something magnificent.

Magnificent as well as terrifying. He still wondered why he bothered to do it at all, especially since he never knew the results of his actions, but then a flash of his parents was all it took to become...

A car honked its horn, and he snapped out of his reveries, finally noticing the green light. This wasn't the time for daydreams: he really couldn't afford them, not when there were things that needed to be done.

He took a right and started driving, thinking more and more about what this night would have in store for him as it went on. Since he'd be tied up at his own mansion for awhile, Batman would be delayed from his rounds tonight. And, although Gotham was a massive breeding ground for murderers and killers, he expected to have a slow night. So far, there hadn't been anything he couldn't handle, and nothing extremely bad, as of yet. But he knew better than to hope for an easy night: saying that would be like saying "what could ever go wrong?" and finding out the answer the hard way. The best he could do was hope that he'd be prepared when that time came.

It made him, again, second guess his decision to become Gotham's defender. And, once again, Batman chided him for even having a figment of that notion within his mind.

Of course this was the right thing to do, it was the only thing he could do to satisfy both his cravings: those of vengeance and justice, and those of fulfillment. Some men dreamed about being doctors or lawyers, or running for president. Some people dreamed about being part of the police or riding on fire trucks. However, he was clearly not just 'some man'.

No, when he was eight years old, even though he didn't know who it was exactly, he wanted to be Batman. And Batman he finally was.

For the moment and, what clearly would appear to be a good portion of the night, he'd have to be billionaire Bruce Wayne, and play the part of the rich noble bachelor still looking for someone to waste money on. It was a part he'd just begun to play, and play well, doing what everyone expected a man in his position to do and more: not only was he rich, he was a klutz, crashed cars and squandered his riches on buying all new Jaguars and Ferraris instead of cheap repairs. He traveled the world for months in "search of enlightenment", and booked cruise ship after cruise ship for vacations he knew he wouldn't be attending, just because he could. He bought stocks, invested money, and drank a martini with every meal out, even though sometimes it would make him sick.

And then, there was another subject altogether: Wayne and Women. He flirted with them, dated them, doted on then, and he later regretted even asking their names. And those few who did manage to "break" his bad, rich boy "nature" were lavished with rich gifts, despite the lackluster romances that ended one to six months later. Oh, those were bad, the never ending "how dare you's" and slaps to the face. He'd had worse, but they still stung a bit, in their own way, and it didn't help that he had to gallivant off to become Gotham's night time savior right in the middle of an evening rendezvous.

He was starting to get a reputation for that. "Break a Date" Bruce was going to have to be copyrighted one of these days.

A nagging feeling told him that was going to change. Something about Selina cracked through his normally guarded inner self, and it scared him a bit. She was so different than anything he'd known before, and what was weird was he didn't know exactly why. Was it because he saw something in her eyes that echoed in his own? Was it her spirit, her soul that spoke to him, telling him they were more alike than he originally thought?

Or was he just overanalyzing irrelevant information and she was damned sexy in an apron?

Coming to Wayne Manor's driveway, marked by a huge wrought iron gate, he shook his head, trying to return his focus to the present. He'd worry about Selina later. Right now, he needed to rest before the big event; sometimes it was a chore playing the part of Bruce Wayne, and this recent day's work had taken its toll on him mentally. Plus, meditation had reached its limits the previous night, having gone a full fifty-six hours without any type of actual, badly needed rest. He had managed to keep it away for one more day, but his weariness was starting to catch up with him. If he didn't rest now for about an hour, he knew he never would.

Rolling down his window, Bruce buzzed Alfred, whom he knew was inside the house, from the intercom system stationed near the drive. "Alfred?" Surprisingly, there was no answer for a couple moments, and he tried again. "Earth to Alfred, come in, Mr. Pennyworth."

"I'm sorry, Master Bruce, but I've been slightly busy with the dusting and the cleaning, and tending to even more matters that you would find tedious, dull, and of no great importance whatsoever."

He smirked. "Can I get inside my own house, please? The gate's locked from the outside, and I don't have a gate-opener in this car. It's a rental, you know."

"As is every other car you purposefully leave at Wayne Enterprises and forget to pick up," came the snarky reply. "Of course, your faithful and not to mention devilishly handsome butler, plays a crucial part in your theatrics, and is always at your beck and call whenever you need him."

"Yup, that's you Alfred: always damned dependable. Now, can you open the gate please?"

"I don't get paid enough to do that sort of thing, you know. You're a grown man, and there is such a thing as a controller similar to a garage door opener that would aid you in your troubles if you chose to carry it around."

Bruce chuckled slightly. "Both points noted and stored away... And now would be a really good time to open the--" A slight clicking noise, followed by a creaking, groaning shriek filled the air, and the billionaire watched the wrought iron gateway slowly swing open towards his expansive front lawn. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Of course, sir. However, I do expect a rather large bonus around the Christmas holiday to compensate for my troubles."

"Gee, love you too, old man."

"Your tuxedo is in your room, sir, so I suggest you snap to it and dress. Your guests will be arriving within the hour."

* * *

Ten minutes later, the familiar gray '92 Toyota sped wildly on two wheels, turning sharply around the corner before coming to a complete stop in front of Selina's feet. The passenger door flung outward, right where Harley kicked it, and the intern peeked out from underneath the hood of the car, grinning. "Someone call for a taxi?" Her friend just stared as the black cat in her arms mewed pathetically. "OOOH! Kitty!" cooed Harley, and held her arms out to it. "Can I hold it? Please? Pretty please? You can drive!"

Selina rolled her eyes and started getting into the car, letting their new pet crawl all over the holey clothed seats. "Harley, for God's sake, does the term seatbelts apply to you? And jeez, you're like a kid in a candy store over her."

The other just shrugged nonchalantly, scratching the head of the feline in question with an idle finger; the cat itself hunkered down in Selina's lap. "What can I say? I think she's cute."

"You don't mind if we keep her?"

"God no, as long as you're paying for shots, I'll pay for collars and kitty food."

Selina grinned. "What about kitty litter?"

"That's where you're on your own, my friend. I don't do popper scooper detail." She set the car into drive and began their way to Selina's next job, along the same route she had driven for months now. They went along in silence for awhile, in that comfortable way the best of friends have, until curiosity got the better of the blonde haired driver. "Um... Selina? What's her name?"

"Name?"

"Haven't you thought of one yet? All people have to have names! Even fuzzy, furry ones!"

Selina shrugged, stroking the black cat lovingly, and staring into her green eyes. "I don't know yet. What shall we name you, sweetie?"

The cat purred, and made Harley giggle. "She's got her motor going, that's for sure. Hmmmm... What shall we name you, kitty? Hey 'Lina, wasn't there some sort of cat goddesses in Egypt? Isis or something? Wait, no, that's Bastet."

"Didn't think you were into Egyptology, Harl."

"Not my strong suit, but it's interesting stuff. I prefer puzzling out minds than ancient cultures, though."

"So what do you think? Isis?" Immediately, the feline purred her loudest, and rubbed her face along the young woman's hand. "You like that, huh? Well then, Isis it is."

"Welcome to the family," replied Harley, and scratched the cat a bit more on her head.

The opening bars of the 1812 Overture rang out, and Selina jumped, scaring her pet into jumping for Harley's lap. It took her a few moments to figure out that the ringing phone was hers, and her slender fingers dug around in her purse until she could find the noisy contraption and press the call button. "Hello?"

"Kyle, you be late, lass," growled the familiar Irish accent on the other end. "I expected you a half hour ago."

"Has it been that long?" Her voice was slightly higher, squeakier than normal. "I was just making me way--"

"No excuses, lassie. I don't think I need to remind you that this would be the fourth time you've been truant."

"Yes sir, but I--"

"Lass, 'tis enough; I'm sorry, but you should be considering this your last event under my employment. If we weren't so booked tonight, I would fire you on the spot, but that's going to have to wait. We left twenty minutes ago, so you're going to have to hustle by work, pick up your uniform, and meet us at the Wayne Mansion."

It took her a beat to hear what he said, and she coughed. "Wayne Manor? THE Wayne Manor?"

"Wow," interjected Harley, wide eyed. "Guess you will be seeing him sooner than your expected, huh?"

* * *

The decorations were set, the timing couldn't be better, and where was Bruce Wayne?

Apparently, nowhere to be found. And, most likely, sleeping upstairs.

"Figures," muttered Alfred, on his last bit of butler-y patience, surveying the scene already laid out in front of him. The caterers had arrived, along with the servers, but besides that, it was chaos: the shrimp scampi was late, the stuffed mushrooms overcooked, and not a single bottle of wine could be found anywhere. It was up to him and him alone to prepare the household for guests later on, but even he was beginning to see that it was hopeless: nothing would be done in time.

_So like Master Bruce_, he thought sarcastically. _Always overlooking the minor details when he left his cape at the cleaners_.

In all his years of attending to the Wayne family, however, he had come to expect the unexpected with them, and this was no different. Under Thomas Wayne, it was a steady stream of patients here and there at any moment, for he had always been one to open his house and home to those who needed him the most. When there was no hospital to go to, when there wasn't much time before death, Doctor Thomas Wayne was known to convert the entire east wing of the house into his own clinic practice, making sure that every patient was well taken care of before thinking of moving them. And that was perfectly viable, perfectly normal, for a doctor to do. Now, with Master Wayne as the head of a rather empty household, it was hustling and bustling over catering arrangements topside, and much more interesting things below what the eye could see.

When he had begun his tirade against the criminals of the night, Alfred had always been terrified that he would be the one to wind up in a hospital, dead upon arrival, unmasked for the whole world to see. There were nights where Bruce was gone so long that he almost was certain he would never come back, and he'd have to take one of the cars out to go ditch hunting. This was a dangerous hobby the young master had engaged himself in; no, not hobby: occupation. He could be tortured, killed, slashed and cut to ribbons with the butler none the wiser, and it terrified him to his very core every time he saw young Mister Wayne don the cape and cowl.

To this day, he still had no idea what possessed him to do it. And, maybe, Alfred was better off not knowing.

Still, he would burn the midnight oil for his charge, as any good father figure, best friend, and faithful butler would do. What else could he do besides?

For now though, he could attend to the matters that, although trivial, would soothe his mind, such as the catering service trying to set up tables on the far end of the ballroom.

A short, auburn-haired man pacing through the middle caught his attention immediately, and upon closer inspection, he could see why: he obviously had to be the head of the operations, with his face as red as his hair and barking orders left and right. His apron was flopping up and down upon his pudgy belly as he spun in circles, dogging everyone he saw as soon he saw them. Moments ago, he had been on his cell for one reason or another, and when the conversation had terminated, he looked twice as displeased. _Remind me never to run afoul with this man_, Alfred thought to himself. _He looks to be the sort of chap whose bite is as worse as his bark._

Sighing, though, he readied himself, straightened his tie and suit jacket before approaching this satyr of a man, and cleared his throat. "Mister Morrigan, I presume?"

The catering director whirled on his heels and squinted, whether it was for sizing him up or he needed glasses, he didn't know. "Don't you worry, Mister Wayne, we'll have everything in order before your guests arrive!"

Ok, so it was the glasses. Definitely. "Um, I'm afraid your mistaken, Mister Morrigan. Master Bruce has yet to--"

"Am I missing something?" replied a voice from the front hall, fresh and relaxed,and Alfred didn't have to glance to see who it was.

"Master Bruce," began the butler, as a way of introduction, "I'd like for you to meet Mr. Morrigan, from Morrigan's Catering Service. I'm sure the two of you have much to talk about while _I go ready the kitchen for the waitresses._"

His tone wasn't lost on the young man, and the billionaire's eyes twinkled with delight. "Yes, I'm sure I do, Alfred. You're doing a great job so far, so I think I can take it from here."

Morrigan's eyes buggered as his head turned from Alfred, to Bruce, and back again. "Mister Wayne?"

"Hmm?" Momentarily distracted by his butler's leave, he gave the caterer his full attention. "Yes, Mister Morrigan?"

It took him seconds to regain his composure, and laugh a hearty, belly-rolling chuckle. "Well, I'll be a Blarney Stone! The other one was the butler!"

"Well, I can't blame you for getting us mixed up: Alfred's the handsome one anyhow," snickered Bruce.

"Aye, so he's the devilish rogue, is he now? Anyway, don't you be worried, Mister Wayne: I've got everything under control," he continued in his thick Irish brogue, his words flowing faster with excitement. "Might be one short for a bit, but I called the late lass, so she'll be here sooner or later. She's a tough one to get a hold of, that one."

Bruce just nodded, and patted him on the shoulder. "Hard to find good help these days. I understand. Well, since you've got everything under control," his feet began their shuffle towards the stairs, "I have a tuxedo calling me. If you don't mind, I'm going to get cleaned up before the company arrives. Keep up the great work, Mister Morrigan. If this works out," he winked, "then I might have to call you to do my catering more often."

"Aye, that would be wonderful, Mister Wayne, sir! Thank you, sir!"

* * *

A quick stop at the headquarters to Morrigan's Catering Service, thirty minutes and a few too many two wheeling turns later, the old '92 Toyota was screeching through back roads and underbrush, trying to reach its destination of Wayne Manor before time ran out. Going eighty on a sixty-five road, Selina gripped Isis close to her chest and held on for dear life as Harley drove, if you could call it driving. "HARLEY, GOD DAMN IT, SLOW DOWN!"

"Can't, won't, wheee!" cried out her friend, clearly loving her own insane flight down the road leading to Wayne Manor. "You've got to get to work, remember? And besides, I can't do this anywhere else!"

"YOU'RE GOING TO GET US KILLED, YOU LUNATIC!" she screamed, as Harley took another turn too sharp, almost tipping the car over.

"Will not!"

"Will too!"

"Will not!"

"Will too!"

"And we STOP!"

SCREEEEEECH! The two pitched forward hard as the intern slammed on the brakes, right in front of the front gate and near the buzz box. Isis hissed, digging her claws into Selina's uniform, consisting of a flimsy serving apron over black dress slacks. If it wasn't for her seatbelt, she would've been sure her head would've hit the windshield, cracking open her skin as the blood flowed down... She shivered, her heart pounding, before a full scowl accompanied a whack on the back of Harley's head. "YOU MORON! Thank God you're going to be in Arkham for awhile: You can be with the rest of the nutjobs in there! You'd fit right in!"

Harley shrugged, her mouth curled into a clown-like grin. "Well, I'd have to be a little nutty if I'm working in the nuthouse. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to relate and treat the people in there. And besides," she poked Selina in the side with her elbow, "you have to admit, that was a LITTLE fun."

"I could think of better ways to risk my life, than you. I could go dodge bullets, for example," she countered, even though she knew Harley was absolutely right. It HAD been fun to cheat death like that... very thrilling...

Images from her past threatened to resurface, but they never had a chance, thanks to the buzzbox near Harley's rolled down window. "Can I help you?"

"Yes! I hope I have the right address. This is Wayne Manor, right?"

The voice on the other side sounded elderly, and gave very dignified answer. "Yes. May I ask who this is?"

"Just a friend of the hired help," replied Harley crisply. "I'm here to drop off one of Morrigan's missing waitresses. Can I pull up to the main drive?"

Selina placed the cat on the floor of the passenger side, then leaned over Harley to reply quickly, "Or we could use the servant's entrance, if it's not too much trouble. Wouldn't want to cause a scene, right?"

"What are you doing? I thought you wanted to see Mister Moneybags," hissed Harley.

Selina shook her head, shooting daggers at her friend while trying to cover up her own anxiety. "I do! I do, just... not like this. Maybe if I don't make a scene, he won't know I'm here... I don't want him to see me like this!"

"Miss? Ladies?"

"Yes! We're here!" replied Selina. "Please, if there's an alternative route, we'll take it."

Buzz box guy chuckled. "If that is what you desire, miss, then the 'back door' it is. As soon as I open the gate, take the left passage instead of going straight. This will take you directly to the kitchen's driveway, where your catering van should already be parked. It's very discreet: there are hedges lining the way, so you won't be seen."

"Thank you, mister...?"

"Pennyworth, my dear. Alfred Pennyworth. Forgive me for saying so, but I will be looking forward to meeting you personally inside. You seem like a lovely young lady to talk to."

Selina chuckled. "Thank you, Mister Pennyworth. I might have to take you up on that."

* * *

_So far, so good, _thought Bruce, surveying his party with what he hoped were "interested" eyes. _So far, Gotham's "finest" have behaved themselves._

The party was in full swing now, and had been for an hour or so. The night had fallen swiftly and the bubbly had been popped, as couples traversed every aspect of his house to admire the furnishings, stuff their faces, or any other leisure they sought while he was playing the good host. As long as they stayed away from the west wing of the house, away from the Batcave...

He found himself drifting back and forth between groups, barely staying longer than a few moments before moving onward to the next couple. He was already getting sick of all the fake smiles and "welcome back" greetings, as if most of these people really cared about him. It was true: only a selected few were ones he'd call "friends", while the rest were there to just mooch booze off of him. Batman had taught him to keep his friends, his real friends, close, his acquaintances at an arm's length, and everyone else under watch.

A friendly tap on his shoulder made him turn, and he grinned right away, taking the hand in his and kissing it. "And to what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Drake?"

A vibrant, brown-eyed young woman, the lady laughed, her melodious voice like the tinkling of the daintiest glass. She was dressed in a modest scarlet red gown that flowed to the floor, with black loafer shoes on her feet and an ebony silk wrap around her shoulders. Her dark hair was streaked with caramel that matched her eyes, and when she smiled, it was as sweet as candy.

She bunched him lightly in the shoulder. "If I didn't know you better, Bruce, I would say that you were actually having fun at your own party."

"Ah, Janet my dear, you have no idea how far you're off the mark," he replied, squeezing her hand with comfort. "But suddenly, I think the night has just gotten better, now that you've made your entrance into it."

A teasing jeer behind him interrupted the smooth conversation. "Bruce Thomas Wayne, are you flirting with my wife again?"

Biting his lip, the playboy had to keep himself from laughing as he embraced the man behind him. "Well, how can I help it, Jack? She's one of the prettiest ladies I've ever entertained."

Jack Drake, a man slightly less stocky than Bruce himself, grinned behind a pair of stylish, gold rimmed glasses, his black tux pressed and crisp with a deep red cummerbund. A huge ring in the shape of a lion adorned his right middle finger, and an equally ornate wedding ring was on his left ring finger.

If Bruce didn't know any better, he might have considered these two to be only high middle class, instead of the billionaires they were.

Not to mention, his neighbors.

"So, how've you been, Bruce? It's been a long time!"

"Yeah, I know, Jack. Couple months, right?"

Jack snorted. "More like years. You look good."

"Thanks. Looks like you and Janet have been a little busy." His fingers found their way to Janet's bulging belly, and he grinned again. "When were you going to tell me? How far along are you?"

Janet looked at her husband, drew him close in a warm embrace, and beamed proudly, her pregnancy making her face glow. "Eight months, and we were going to tell you whenever you managed to come back. Until then, it was going to be our little secret."

"Girl or boy?"

"Boy," announced Jack confidently, hugging her. "Timothy Ryan Drake. Nothin' like a son to carry on the family name, eh?"

"Right," he replied awkwardly. "Yeah, sons have to carry on the family legacy, don't they?" _Not that mine ever will... I wouldn't wish Batman on anyone, my child, or my wife..._

"What about you? You ever think of having kids?"

"Maybe someday, when I'm old and gray. I'm not in any rush to get married or have kids."

"Careful, Bruce," replied a voice from the side, "Love does find you in unexpected ways."

"Harvey!" Surprise couldn't even begin to describe his emotions as he watched his close friend pull up next to them in a white tuxedo; not only that, but he wasn't alone.

Upon one arm was a lovely young lady with long, chest-length red hair, a pair of stylish but think black glasses perched precariously on her nose. She wore a sleeveless gown of green that showed off ample cleavage, with a strand of pink pearls looped once, twice around her neck. Her green eyes were deep emerald, and they seemed to bore straight into him when she spoke. "I'm guessing you're the illustrious Bruce Wayne that everyone has been talking about."

The billionaire nodded politely, trying not to stare at her. "Yeah, that would be me. Harv, you didn't say you were bringing such a beautiful lady to this dump of a party."

Harvey Dent laughed, greeting the Drakes before answering Bruce directly. "Well, then again, you didn't ask, idiot. Bruce Wayne, meet my lovely girlfriend, Doctor Pamela Isley. Pam, this is my friend, my partner in crime, my confidante, Mister Bruce Wayne."

She shook his hand politely, and smiled blissfully. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mister Wayne. Harvey's been telling me so much about you."

"Doctor?" he cocked his eyebrow playfully and whistled. "High stakes for an attorney."

"Shouldn't it be the other way around? I could've sworn I was the lucky one." She kissed her boyfriend on the cheek and giggled slightly.

"Isley, was it?" asked Jack, shaking her hand after Bruce did. "Jack Drake, the neighbor boy. And this is my lovely wife, Janet. I've heard quite a bit about you, Doctor. Aren't you a botanist?"

"Yes," replied Pam, blushing a bit. "I specialize in rare and exotic mixed breeds of plants. I'm the assistant manager of an independent pharmaceutical laboratory on the outskirts of Gotham City. Maybe you've heard of it? Botantek?"

Bruce frowned a bit. "Isn't that the lab run by Doctor Jason Woodrue?"

She nodded. "Yes, Mister Wayne. He's my boss."

"Be careful around him, Doctor Isley. I've actually met him and there's only one thing I can say about him: he's a lunatic. My company fired him for his... experimentations."

This made Janet curious, and she voiced her concerns. "What was he doing, Bruce?"

"Apparently, crossbreeding plants with animals, in trying to make meat-eating plants, like Venus flytraps, more potent. He was planning on using them on fields that were littered with mice and rodents, in hopes that these plants would protect the crops from being eaten."

Pamela shrugged nonchalantly, and Bruce made a mental note to keep an eye on her in the future. _There's more to Doctor Isley than meets the eye..._ "Most people would find that barbaric, and that's true, but if it would help retain crops and improve sales, then why not? Better than spreading around pesticides that seem to do more harm than good to the flora. Besides, nobody like rats anyway."

"Doctor Woodrue was also developing poisons and toxins to kill living things bigger than rats, Doctor Isley. I think I read a report where he was trying to improve the toxicity of certain plant breeds to make airborne pheromones that were deadly to the human body."

Jack's wife shuddered. "Barbaric."

"He didn't do that. He was trying to create better tomato plants! The ones in the labs kept dying due to the warmer temperatures and the foul air from car exhaust and factory outputs!"

Harvey interjected. "Pamela, I thought we weren't going to talk about work when we're on a date..." He pulled her closer to her and whispered in her ear, too low for Bruce to catch but he immediately noticed her eyes going wide with fear.

"S-S-sure, Harvey, of course," she stammered, the blood rushing from her face. "Absolutely." She quickly hung her head, barely meeting Bruce's eyes. "I'm sorry, Mister Wayne. Sometimes I tend to be a bit overzealous towards my life's work. Besides, after months of having only potted, green things for company, and you get a little defensive. You start to prefer them over human beings, especially because they seem to hang on your every word."

_What did Harvey say to her? What could shake up an obviously fiery, independent woman so badly that she goes meek without question?_ He drew one of her hands to his lips and kissed it distractedly. "It's alright, Doctor Isley. And please, call me Bruce."

* * *

_Alright, Kyle, you're going to go out there. You're going to do your job, serve up the damned champagne, and you're going to be fine._ Peeking out from the kitchen door, Selina rolled her eyes, disgusted at herself. Watching the rest of her colleagues come and go, with Morrigan's eyes glaring holes into her back, she'd been hanging out here, in the kitchen, for the better part of two hours, carefully avoiding every single contact with anything that would remotely put her out there, amongst the guests, and ultimately, in front of Bruce. Jeez, what was it about this guy that made her so jumpy? She'd never been this nervous around a man since--

"Miss, if you're not going to go out the door, then might I suggest finding a comfy chair in here to sit in? The door opens and it shuts, but you're keeping it from doing it's job by standing in the way."

She jumped at the voice and whirled around, coming face to face with the voice's owner, the same one who had greeted Harley and herself at the gate through the buzz box. He was not old enough to be her grandfather, but possibly an elderly uncle, and even through her frazzled nerves, she felt at ease in his company.

Shaking her head to mentally clear the cobwebs, she laughed bitterly. "I'm sorry, Mister Pennyworth, but I think I'm failing my job here. I can't seem to take a single step out of this kitchen."

He only smiled warmly back at her, and gestured to a stool placed next to a humongous island, located in the middle of the vast, industrial-sized kitchen. "Then maybe you'd like to sit down?"

Morrigan bore into her like a bull from his place as the coordinator/chef of this shindig, and she swallowed hard. "Maybe I better--"

"Nonsense. I'm sure Mister Morrigan would understand, especially since the butler would like a little help with the silver. In the pantry." He winked at her, and started walking toward it, dragging one of the island chairs with him.

Well, Selina wasn't going to let a good thing go to waste. She followed, trying to avoid looking at her boss, before stepping into the walk-in closet full of everything you could ever want: from fancy things like oyster crackers to simple sweets, like gummi bears.

Alfred held out a box of cinnamon graham crackers to her and she took one out. "Master Bruce loves these things," he replied, packing them away as quickly as he had gotten them out. "Whenever he gets nervous or agitated, he takes a few of these and a cup of hot chocolate, goes into his study, and reads to get his mind off his troubles. He told me once that whenever he did so, his troubles always melted away."

Bruce. Instantly, a silly little smile planted itself upon her lips.

He caught it. "Ah, I'm assuming you're familiar with Master Bruce?"

"He came into my diner today," she replied, half-surprised that she referred to Joe's as **_her_** diner.

"Ahhhhhh, so you're the lovely young woman Master Bruce won't tell me about today," he replied, his kind eyes twinkling. "But if I may ask: how did you happen to be here? I thought you worked at the diner, not at a catering service."

"Well, that's complicated. You see, my roommate and I, you met her this morning when she dropped me off... we barely make enough to cover the rent, the utilities, and her schooling. She's an intern at Arkham Asylum now, and pretty soon, she's going to leave me behind. I weigh her down so much, dry up all of the spare cash in the house with my debts, since I can't keep a steady job to make ends meet. So, I have to take on extra jobs wherever I can find them, to pay her back, and to make my way in the world. This is actually my third job... well, **_was_** my third job, anyway. Morrigan said that this will be my last night."

"You work hard, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. You work and try hard to make your own dreams come true."

"I just want a better life than what I'm living now, better than I ever had it! All my life, I've wanted to be something more, and I've tried so damned hard to do it, but it's getting me nowhere..."

A warm hand grasped hers and squeezed, and the older man nodded knowingly. "I know the feeling, miss. However, your future is what you make of the present, and so far, if I might say so," he pointed towards the door of the pantry and beyond, "you won't be getting any farther if you still stop at the kitchen door."

The irony made her laugh aloud. "I guess you're right," she responded, standing back up. "Thanks, Mr. Pennyworth."

"It was my pleasure, miss...?"

"Kyle. Selina Kyle."

"Miss Kyle it is then. Oh, and please, call me Alfred. Everyone else can call me Mister Pennyworth." She nodded and shook his hand, coming away with something... papery? Uncurling her fingers, it took her a moment to realize what he'd given her; she immediately tried to give it back. "Alfred, I--"

"Think nothing of it, Miss Kyle. Just be sure not to waste it on something frivolous. Believe me, you most likely need it more than I."

Tears formed in her eyes. No one had ever done what he had just now, and before she knew it, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Bruce is lucky to have someone like you to look after him."

"No my dear," he replied, "I am the one who is lucky. Now, shall we both go see how he's doing? Or would you like to do it yourself?"

Selina pulled away and grinned, slipping the hundred dollar bill in the back pocket of her skirt. "I'd like to go by myself first, if that's alright with you."

"Then what are you waiting for, Miss Kyle? Go for it."

* * *

Having ended the conversations with Harvey, Doctor Isley and the Drakes, Bruce wandered aimlessly through the crowded room, avoiding a few of the waitresses hustling and bustling from one end of the room to the other. Mingling was not his thing, not unless it was in the shadows, and parties like this... well, it was enough t ogive him claustrophobia.

After waving hello to the newly appointed Commissioner Jim Gordon, he felt a pair of twin hands latch onto his arms almost too fast to notice. "Hi Brucie," cooed the voice on his left arm. "Long time no see."

"Yeah," whispered the one on his right arm, "Welcome back to Gotham City, Handsome."

Damn. Who invited the Anderson sisters again? Oh yeah: he did. _Damn, I hate being Bruce Wayne sometimes..._

"Ladies, ladies," he plastered a fake smile on his face, trying to sound conversational towards the twin co-CEOS of Anderson Pharmaceuticals, the second largest medical corporation in Gotham City and his number one competitor in that area, "There is enough of me to go around."

Trista Anderson, on the left, stood up on her tiptoes to give him a smack on the cheek, her long blonde hair swishing across her almost entirely bare back; obviously, she didn't think it was necessary to have so much fabric between her neck and the top of her butt, or from her neck to her boobs for that matter. "Does this mean we get you all to ourselves tonight, Brucie?"

_God, I hope not. _"I don't know, ladies. I mean, I am a very busy man."

Traci traced swirls across his chest. "I'm sure you could clear a few appointments with the rich and the dull. Come on, Brucie, let's have a little fun."

_Crap. I'm never going to get out of this...

* * *

_

_I can do this, _she thought, taking a deep breath. _I can do this. I can do this. I can go out there, mingle with the crowd, and see him. I can do it._

She was halfway out the door with a fresh tray of champagne when her insides turned inside out, and a cold wind blew down her spine.

She saw... them. With him.

"Hold this," she muttered to one of her coworkers, shoving the tray, minus one glass, into her arms. "I have to go take the trash out..."

* * *

Traci was giggling at some joke he made, and Trista was sipping a martini glass, _or was it the other way around?_ when a sudden, icy voice made him snap to attention like a guilty lover. "Looks like you've found a boy toy, ladies, but I'd be careful if I were you." It took him a microsecond to place the voice, and a half second to turn towards it, confirming the dread growing in the pit of his stomach. There, coming closer with every step was the one woman he wanted and didn't want to see right then and there; her hair was done up with chopsticks, a white blouse over a pair of black slacks and a white apron, with a pin across her chest declaring her name. But what made him take notice was not the way she stood or what she said, but the way her pretty blue eyes looked so angry, so pained, so... betrayed.

Selina Kyle was pissed off. And, she was disappointed in him, which cut much deeper.

She kept on her tirade, her voice growing louder and louder without a care of whether or not anyone heard her. "Bruce Wayne is one of those men who thinks he's real smooth, wining and dining you like you're the only woman in the world. But then, when it's convenient for him--"

SPLASH! He was the Batman, for crying out loud, and he couldn't see the drink coming? Dumbfounded, he stared, unblinking, as the bubbly rained down like water, making his hair and face sticky with alcohol.

She even had the nerve to throw the glass over her shoulder and onto the floor, smiling bitterly as it shattered to the floor. "--he forgets you even existed."

"Selina, I--"

"Enough. You know, I thought I saw something in you, Bruce. Something that I've never seen in anyone before, and now... I guess this is what it was. Have a nice life, playboy."

He let her walk out the front door, walk out on him, and at that point, he didn't care if there was a room full of people around him: it was just her and himself in an empty room.

"Excuse me," he murmured to the twins, pardoning himself. "I think I've had enough of my own party."

All around him, the murmurs were growing louder, and it pained him to refuse looking in anyone's eye. So what if they thought he was a cad? It would just enhance the bachelor billionaire persona, right? But why did this "break-up", if you will, hurt the worse than any of the ones that came before? Now, it was like he was making the real players look bad.

Suddenly, a flash of memory crossed his mind, and a feeling of dread formed in the pit of his stomach. Selina had left his house. Oh foot. _Alone_.

_God damn it!_

It took him a bit to find Alfred, and he jerked him aside, none too gently. "Alfred, tell people that I'm going to retire. Keep them all up here, and _away from the west wing_. Got it?" he asked, gritting his teeth.

The butler instantly knew what he was talking about. "Excuse me, sir, but did you happen to see Miss Kyle...?"

"That's why I'm running out so fast. I... I have to make sure she's going to be ok, and I can't... I shouldn't do it now, when I look _like this_."

"Forgive me for being so forward sir, but what could a change of attire serve?"

"Alfred, listen to me and think for a moment. What do you think happens when Gotham's rich and famous all come to the same place, and then they have to leave by car? What if someone, doesn't matter who, leaves _on foot_?"

"Doesn't it take a good five minutes or so to reach the main gate?"

"Not if she cuts through the gardens. It takes two minutes."

His eyes widened. "Good heavens!"

Bruce nodded, wiping the bubbly from his face. "I know. I can't shake this feeling that something's going to happen. That's why I have to go after her, but I can't go looking like this. She wouldn't accept my help if I did so: she's too damned stubborn."

"Then by all means, sir, go!"

"Thanks, Alfred," he responded, and hurried as best he could towards the stairs, onwards to his office in the west wing. _I just hope I'm not too late...

* * *

_

_God damn it, why did this have to happen to me? _she cried in her mind, rivers flowing from her reddening eyes. _Did everything he did mean nothing? Was I just the paper cup girl? Use, abuse, discard? _

She was running now, grateful for her opting to wear black tennis shoes instead of her usual black heels. The wind was whipping across her face so fast as she ran, ran for everything it was worth, ran away from her problems. There wasn't anything she wanted to do more than to run, and when she hit the gate, she didn't hesitate, just climbed over it, ripping a gash in her pants along the bottom part of the leg.

Blood was beginning to pour down from a shallow cut as she vaulted over, but she just gritted her teeth and bore it, running as fast as she could towards the main road. How stupid she'd been, to put all her trust in someone like Bruce Wayne! He wasn't like how everyone said he was? He wasn't a player, a cad, a creep, the bastard that she should've known that he was? How was he any different than any of the other jerks she'd dated, or was he worse?

On she cried, sobbed for herself, for her situation, her life. How pathetic her life was! She couldn't even get a guy who liked her for her! Depression was sinking in faster and faster as she ran, on and on until she was numb, a mental shot of novocaine to the senses.

She thought this time would be different. It would've been different, it should've been different...

God, she hated her life! Was there any decency in it left?

A rattling of glass stirred her from her personal degrading, and it almost didn't register. _Wait, what was that_? She sniffed, slowed, stopped. Suddenly, she had a very, very bad feeling about this.

Like an idiot, she waited, turning once, twice, three times, before receiving catcalls from three different directions. "Well, well, well," growled a voice to the right, and she could feel rather than see the presence approaching her, "What have we here? Little girl gone and lost her way home?"

_Stupid, Kyle_, she berated herself further, _You drifted into the outer ring of the Narrows! This is Falcone's territory!_ Her eyes went wide, taking in every detail in the dark night, trying to sharpen her own senses.

As she searched, she heard the voice again. "What's wrong, little girl? Did you take a wrong turn? Hey, it's ok: Bandit will take good care of you. REAL good care of you."

Before she even knew it, her body readied itself into a starting box position, left fist protecting her face while the right was six inches farther up.

Another voice spoke up. "Oooh, little girlie thinks she's a boxer."

Her brain turned an emotional three-sixty, and she taunted them back, suddenly bold despite her sniffles. "Why don't you dumb bastards come find out for yourself?"

"Huh, bitch got spunk," called out another. "Bet we can tame you."

"I'd like to see you try."

Suddenly, they went at her! Four big punks, twice her size, outweighing her six to one. To the left! Instantly, everything Ted had taught her came rushing back in a flash, and she lashed out, a right cross followed by a knee to the groin. One of them down, but the other two to go! One grabbed her from behind and she bucked like a bronco, managing to sweep his feet from underneath him and give him a good chop to the throat. The third wasn't bright either: dodging a few slow punches, she high kicked him in the jaw, feeling it break upon impact as they both went down hard. To the left now! She barely had time to duck away from a bludgeon, a broken baseball bat split straight down the middle, before back bending into a backflip, her feet coming up sharply around his neck and sending him crashing painfully to the ground in one quick, short hurricane take down.

Jumping to her feet, she grinned, adrenaline flooding her system and surveying the damage done. "Satisfied?"

But the voice still taunted her from the darkness, as two more goons came out of nowhere, clamping down on her arms and legs with huge arms. There were two, no, five henchmen! "Not quite, sweetheart." A flash in the night gave the sign of a knife being brandished, and Selina's heart flatlined for a few moments. From the darkness, the ringleader kept talking. "You know what we're going to do to you, sweetheart? We're going to make a dame out of you. Yeah, we're going to fix you up so you won't ever hurt us again, or say no. You just wait, precious, because it's playtime."

She sucked in a breath, but refused to give up. "Keep talkin', jackass. The only one listening to you is yourself."

"Talk is cheap, honey. Now we're going to have a little fun before we shut you up for--"

A whistling sound interrupted his speech, and then...

All hell broke loose.


	4. Two Sides, Two Stories PT 4

**Title:** Gotham Knights: Two Sides, Two Stories (Part 4 of 4)  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!  
**Author's Note:** Well, never thought you guys would hear from me again, huh? I know I haven't updated in QUITE A WHILE, but things have been up and down, sideways and around in circles. Things in my life have popped up, made it complicated, and I just had to deal with that before I could continue with anything else.

You'll notice a few changes in this edition of TSTS: barely any cursing, for one. Thought I'd clean up my story a bit, since it seems like everything else in the world involves some sort of cursing. In some instances, it'll be used in context, (like hell), but other than that… yeah, not so much. I could use better words. Secondly, this part may be one of the longest, because I have many miles to go before I conclude this story. And afterward, just so you know, the next story will be titled something else. _Gotham Knights_ is the collection, and there are many stories in a collection… (yadda, yadda…) You get the picture.

I want to thank everyone for your rave reviews on this series, and I apologize for the wait. Although I'm not J.K. Rowling or anything, I could imagine the wait for this next part was just as agonizing. If you're like me, waiting for a story's end sucks. Anyway, enjoy!

**Summary:** In the shadows of the night, two creatures of the night are born, and their lives are forever intertwined.

* * *

Five. There were five, she was sure she counted five. But with a grunt, one keeled over head over feet, immediately unconscious, in front of her. A few moments later, a sucker punch from the darkness around them toppled another in front of Selina's eyes.

_Could it… was it…?_ She didn't have the time to finish her thoughts. Bozo Number One, Bandit the ringleader, still needed her attention, and she was bound to give it. After all, that was what he wanted in the first place, right? Her undivided attention? Not in the way he wanted it, but hey, who was she to argue?

Bandit growled with a mix of… _was that anger and fear?_ …and she laughed, unable to help herself. _He doesn't know what the heck's going on…_ "Minx has got a bodyguard," he snarled, brandishing his knife in what was probably a fearsome way, but ended up looking almost comical. "Doesn't matter. You and your boyfriend are going to be breathing out of openings you never knew you had before."

But a deeper growl, gravelly and grave, shook his bravado. "Randall 'Bandit' Badara."

"W-w-w-who…"

"I've been looking for you, Badara. Grand theft auto, three accounts of murder, multiple counts of breaking and entering. Even racketing prostitutes over the Internet."

Selina's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Badara… the owner of Meltdown? Gotham's highest grossing Internet prostitution industry? You're the owner of that? And you're still stooping low enough to mug people?"

"SHUT UP!" He screamed, taking a swipe at her with his knife. "It's Darryl's gig! My own brother! I just shoot the film, do all the dirty work, and he's—"

"ENOUGH." _Where in hell did he come from? _Was the only thought she had before he was suddenly there, between the blade and her flesh, a massive wall of latex black rubber and bulletproof Kevlar; a slight gasp escaped her lips as the wall of black snapped up the flimsy material of Bandit's white undershirt, and hoisted him almost six inches off the ground. "Zsasz has been looking for you."

"That freak? NO! NO! Don't take me back there! Don't take me to Arkham again, please! They'll saddle me with that nutjob and I'll—" A fist, weighted with what was probably the weight of the world, met his mouth, and he said no more.

She stared, unable to tear her gaze away from the scene: here she was, Selina Kyle, standing behind Gotham's own urban legend, the man criminals had grown to fear within the past couple years, the being whose existence was growing legendary by every capture and good deed. The papers had done nothing to describe how massive he really was, from the toned muscles to the broad shoulders; even his neck seemed to bulge with sinewy, taut force through his cowl. This was no man; this was a creature, born of the night, and normally, this type would give her the shivers.

But besides the initial reaction, there was nothing but... calm? Peace? It was comforting enough to make her feel uncomfortable, and Batman seemed to notice it as well. He let Bandit fall with a hard thump. "Selina Kyle."

Normally, when a man addresses her by her real name and not a moniker, it made her nervous. But this felt different than all the rest. "Thank you, for saving my life."

"You didn't need me. You could have saved yourself."

"Then why'd you cut in on my dance partners? Jealous?" _Idiot_, she ridiculed herself._ Great going, Kyle, you meet Batman and the first thing you can think of is to lay it on thick._

Luckily for her, he seemed unphased by her rather pitiful attempt at flirtation. "Leverage. Felt like ratting cages."

"So you save people because you feel like it? Isn't that a bit pompous?"

"I've been called many things. Pompous isn't one of them."

"I could've taken care of Bandit and his bandits myself."

"Yes."

"But you helped me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"…"

She half didn't expect an answer, and shrugged, unbiased. Fingers absently weaved figure-eights in her hair as if in afterthoughts, and her body spun in a quarter turn. "Fine. Don't answer me. I don't even know why--" But by the time she spun back, it was too late. Gone. Like shadow in the daylight, like he hadn't ever been there at all. "You have to be kidding me," she muttered under her breath, tugging at her hair in frustration. "Why can't I meet a white or dark knight that actually sticks around for awhile?"

_Batman. That was Batman. Wow. Wow…_ He knew her name! He came to her rescue! He knew her name! Selina didn't know how he knew, or whether she wanted to laugh or cry about it, almost overcome with a "fan girl frenzy" that she hadn't felt sense her teeny-bopper days. Batman knew who she was! Her heart beat out a rapid staccato melody, and for a slight moment, she almost felt sick from dizziness. _Batman…_ It took her a moment to compose herself, and then she remembered Bandit, slumped on the pavement, supported only by his girth against the unforgiving bark of a redwood tree in an abused plant bed. _No use in wasting a perfectly good moment to further his "good" reputation with the cops…_ Her fingers danced out 9-1-1, and waited.

* * *

"You were WHAT!?" Normally, one's roommate and best friend would be a mixture of sick, horrified, and relieved when said one appears on his or her doorstep three hours later, and tells him or her of one's near robbery and death experience. In a normal world, this would prompt one's best friend to wrap his or her arms around the escapee's shoulders, sob uncontrollably at how he or she nearly lost the other, and makes the other promise not to put his or herself in that position again. Not Harley. Selina apparently had the only best friend in the world who, upon hearing of Selina's near robbery and death experience, promptly went giddy and quizzed her on the fact or fiction of modern psychology. "Were you scared? What were you feeling then? Were you experiencing a heightened sense of smell and taste, as it's been featured in the medical journals? Or is that a bunch of bull? I always thought it was nothing, but they say there is some truth to that. And these robber guys--- were they exhibiting signs of depression or child abuse when they wanted to shank you?"

Slack-jawed couldn't even begin to cover how incredulous she felt. "Harley, have you listened to ANYTHING I've said?"

"Yeah, but you haven't covered the important bits!" whined Harley, flopping down on their badly abused futon, in what would be a slipshod version of a living room. "This is a very important event that could crack the psyche of the criminal mind, and I wasn't there to witness it! You have to be my eyes and ears, 'Lina!"

She rolled her eyes, and dug a trench out of the cream plush carpet with her foot. "You're lucky I wasn't killed. Then there wouldn't be any rent coming in. I'm glad Batman was there to save me."

Instantly, Selina regretted her big mouth. As if she had said the word "candy", Harley pretty much pounced on her, eyes crazed and glassy, drool practically flinging from the cracks of her mouth. "BATMAN!?!?!? TELL ME. TELL ME NOW. I WANT TO KNOW IT ALL. EVERYTHING."

"He just… appeared. Out of nowhere, like he was made by the shadows. I was surrounded by these thugs, and suddenly, they go flying like ragdolls. Then, he was just… there, right in front of me."

"Did he speak to you?"

"Yeah. He told me I could've taken them on myself, but he wanted to rattle cages."

Harley's open mouth would've let bats fly out, if there were any. "It's a sign."

"Of what? Batman's vendetta against evil? Come on, Harley, be serious."

But there was no stopping her best friend from her ranting. "Selina, you need to follow up on this. Psyching Batman is a once in a lifetime opportunity! You have to meet him again!"

Selina scoffed, waving a hand in the air and swatting an imaginary fly. "Oh yeah, like I'm really going to put myself in a position to be shanked again. Great. Nice, Harl; what a great friend you are." Something about the way Harley was silent, and the fish-eyed ogle gave her the creeps though, and she blushed crimson. "Would you quit that? Stop starin' at me like I'm your psych patient."

Her friend, however, had other ideas. Bouncing out of her seat, she bebopped her way to the closet, seeking out something particular, something she knew had to be there since last Halloween… "HELLO!" she cried triumphantly, pulling out a vinyl black catsuit complete with a cat cowl, and matching green goggles from the very back of the closet. "PERFECT!"

"What're you doing… OH NO," moaned Selina, snatching it away as soon as she saw it. "Out of the question."

"Oh COME ON, Selina, you want to see him as much as I do. You can't go around looking like you want to get robbed, so it makes sense that you'd do the robbing! That's how you'll see him again."

"For your information, I gave up that life a long time ago. Pick-pocketing and lock-picking are amateur stuff compared with what I'd have to pull off in this thing! I promised Ted I wouldn't steal anymore. And another thing… have you completely lost your mind!?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm not the one with a thing for a bat, now am I? And I KNOW you do; you haven't stopped making goo-goo eyes since you came in the door! Come on, Selina… I need a passing grade on my entry essay to Arkham, and Batman would be perfect! Either that, or I'd be able to psych a true criminal."

"I thought you already made it into Arkham."

"So I lied a little… They're waiting for this paper, and if they read it and like it enough, they'll put me on full-time instead of the part-time position they offered me. Blow it, and they'll keep me on part-time, or if it's bad enough, they may retract my internship altogether. I NEED this, Selina. Please, it's due in three months… Don't make me beg."

_Geez, no pressure,_ she thought, rolling her eyes and moaning. This was insane! Dress up in a catsuit and steal, just to get Batman's attention. Just like that. What was Harley thinking? _Was the gain worth the trouble?_ She immediately squelched the thought, but it bubbled again and again in her subconscious, eating away at her bit by bit. What if it was worth it? If she went back to her roots and stole again, she'd be able to use any cash to pay off her bills, build up her bank account. If she stole again, Batman was sure to find her. But throwing away years of going straight, of being a normal person… such a waste! Ted would be furious. She'd be a criminal, and if Batman chased her, she'd be publicly known. If she was ever imprisoned, she'd never live a normal life again.

Something inside of her though… she didn't know what it was, but something in the back of her mind, in the recesses of her soul… something craved it. Wanted it. Needed it. She could feel it, the snarlings of a beast, something that had been chained for so long, not long enough to steal its hunger for freedom, but long enough to bitterly snap up the opportunity if it came around again. To put on a mask and a costume, to go prowling in the dark as she had before, to be free and be herself in a way no normal life could give her… that felt as if it was worth everything. And no one but Harley would have to know at first, if at all! If she was careful enough, sneaky enough, devious enough, she could keep this to herself; cover her tracks; retrace her steps and be…

"Catwoman," she replied faintly, her voice a waif on the wind. "My alter ego is named Catwoman."

* * *

**SEVEN WEEKS LATER**

The streets were unearthly quiet for this time of night. Twilight had barely begun for the great city of Gotham, and this little city district was a tomb. The overhead lights from the lampposts had long since shattered, leaving only one or two sparsely scattered across the streets; their hazy golden glow was not even enough to see your hands, they were so old. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. Perfect.

He'd come this night. Every other night, she'd prowled, leaping from roof to roof, waiting for her perfect moment, the perfect heist. It hadn't been as easy first, because she still believed herself to be Selina Kyle: mediocre, normal, absolutely dull and boring Selina Kyle. Not any more. The cat, it seemed, was more her style, and with it, she'd watched, waited, perfected her pick-pocketing, breaking and entering, her lock-picking. She was rusty. She had to get better before the grand finale. She did. And now, she was good. _Really_ good.

Watching the little jewelry store from yonder perch, she whistled, taking a gander through her newly upgraded, nightvision goggles, the ones she first purchased over the Internet when she had enough money to make a decent dent in her bills. The greenish glow had taken a bit to get used to, but not by much. The magnification they also brought to the table, however, was another story. With these babies, she could see further than she could in the daytime, and they more than compensated for her normally poor eyesight too. If she cared to, she could see the washing woman, hanging clothes on a clothesline between her apartment building and the next, three blocks away as if this same woman was a few feet away. These things were POWERFUL. After a few moments of disorientation and adjustment, she could now smoothly change between normal vision and microscopic, all with a push of a button close to her temple.

The catsuit was upgraded as well, as best as it could've been. She'd added elbow-length gloves, fitted with retractable claws for her cat-loving pleasure. She pilfered a few jewels and a few days later, returned them for the million dollar reward money to earn herself a nylon-Kevlar polymer weave catsuit, impervious to bullets and ultra snug around the waist. It protected and accented her figure perfectly. Her boots were a hybrid of Kevlar additions and army-esque style, giving her the traction and protection she needed without the dead weight of steel toes. A whip, she discovered, was the perfect way to get away, trip up, or do just about anything to anyone or anything. It had taken her some practice with various methods and thicknesses of whips, but sooner than later, she'd become almost a pro at it. She'd even added her own stylish utility belt, just for kicks and, as it turned out, tricks.

Despite the Selina in her knowing all this was wrong, the Catwoman inside of her didn't seem to care. She wanted toys, and toys she received.

It had become easier and easier over time, to push back the ego and uproot the id. At first, she felt incredibly guilty the first time, when she robbed a gas station on 9th Street. But little by little, especially since she'd begun to not just steal but prowl around, jumping from roof to roof, it became easier to quell her conscience. A part of her had longed for adventure, excitement, something so much more fascinating and interesting than the life she led before. She wasn't a nobody, and the world kept treating her like one. When she went backwards, back to impulse, desire… she realized how much she missed it in her organized, hectic, and orderly life. With Selina Kyle, ordinary woman, life was complicated. It was overbearing. It was suffocating. This life… it was so much easier. Simpler. More fun. Instead of deadlocked into a life she hated, she locked herself into a life she loved. And she was bound and determined not to go back.

The lights had gone out two hours ago in the jewelry store. Time to party.

She stretched her arms upward and cracked both her shoulders, bounced on the balls of her feet and grinned, gearing up for what she amicably called the "Thrill". The Thrill was the plunge, headlong into the abyss, without a second thought of safety or sanity. With the wind whipping against her face like she was a candle needing to be blown out… It was exhilaration and excitement all rolled into one. It was freedom.

She jumped.

At the last possible second, she righted herself, and gently bounced of an awning into a forward flip, where she eventually landed with a soft thump right in the middle of the street. A few strides was all it took for her to stealthily come to her destination.

Tripping the alarm had been the easy part. At South and Main, the biggest jewelry shop alive was beckoning to be stolen from; to be honest, she just did it a favor: she complied. But surprisingly, the name of the game wasn't just jewel thief. In fact, there was only one more thing in it besides the cash in the cash register that made her shatter a jagged hole in the storefront window with just her combat boot.

Tall, dark and handsome. If only he'd show up.

Her claws picking through the glass, she slid through the hole easily, the circumference of it just big enough for her form, and she hopped off the display shelf, her feet landing light as a feather. The object in question was the antique cash register situated on the far wall, the one she knew the employees dumped every cent from the electronic ones into. She'd spent enough time watching them, marking their movements and compromising her location more than once, so she knew just how to disarm and unlock the safe.

When would he get here?

Approaching the machine, she used her newly sharpened claws to undo the screws in an almost invisible panel below it, and threw the plate to the side, gazing in at the countless numbers of wires and gizmos inside the tiny space. It was an electro pulse generator, able to not only deliver an almost lethal shock to anyone who even touched the register, but also to immediately trip an alarm, alerting the police of any accomplices as well. From what she understood from electronics, which was extensive thanks to a little place called the library and a few crank calls to the FBI, she immediately identified which wires were good, which were bad, and which would trip the cops. Taking a tiny pair of wire clippers from a pocket in a decorative utility belt around her slender waist, she first clipped the blue wire, the one to alarm the cops, and set to work, snapping the green, red and yellow wires in sequence.

Satisfied she'd done her job, she tossed the utensil lightly at the machine's keys, pleased that when she did so, they didn't charge with an electric shock, and slid her claws right between the cracks and creases of the cash drawer, careful not to chip her stainless steel nails in her gloves of their black paint. Then, with a mighty push forward, the thing sprung free, the lever maneuver providing enough force to break the lock. A quick grab of the twenties and tens, stuffing them in a satin bag around her wrist, and she was free, somersaulting over the display shelf once again and shimmying back through the hole she'd created. No problem.

And then, she turned around, and ran smack dab into hard, black clad abs, and strong hands gripped her shoulders gently but forcefully. "And just where do you think you're going?"

She glanced up at him through her green goggled eyes and cat cowl, her eyes widened with surprise and delight, and she couldn't help but purr back at him. "I was thinking about grabbing a cocktail and settling up some old debts. You want to come with? I could use a strong, handsome man for company."

"Who are you?"

"I'm surprised you don't know. I thought the ears and the occupation completely gave me away." A sharp knee to the groin made him stumble back and groan, the grip on her completely free, and she sprang towards an alleyway and up an escape ladder, reaching the roof before either of them knew it.

Against the moonlight, her eyes gazed downwards at him and she blew him a kiss, smart and sassy in a way she never was before. "I'm Catwoman, at your service. Now are we done here, or do you want to play some more?"

He looked like he was scowling… but could she really be sure? That mask of his obscured her view significantly. Or was that a smile, perhaps? It was hard to tell. "This isn't a game."

"So says you. For me, it's a masquerade. We both certainly look the part." She stretched a bit, knowing full well what areas stuck out and others didn't, before letting it all contort back into its original shape with a slight moan. "I'm one for masks and theatrics as much as the next criminal."

She was almost disappointed when he insisted on "business as usual"… until—_What?_. "I'm here to catch criminals, not chase them, Catwoman. If you run, eventually, I will catch you. Give yourself up. Now. Or, I'll have to come up there."

That had promise. "Come down? Why? What's the point of being the bad girl if I have to behave like the good girl? Don't you know a woman like me's worth all the trouble of catching?" She blew another kiss. "Kitty wants to play. Mrrow."

_How did he move so fast?! _A blur, that was all he was, one dark, enigmatic blur and suddenly, he was behind her, and she could feel his gloved hands on her shoulders, gripping her tightly, but gently. Was his hands even gloved? The heat between them proved otherwise—she could feel him around her, as if they were skin to skin, his presence radiating thermals of heat through her catsuit. Letting the pack drop, she stammered, "Y-y-you're fast", and swore she was going to faint.

Batman's voice was a cross between a growl and a whisper. "You're under arrest."

"By whose authority?"

"Mine," he replied.

"I've got shivers," she answered, and headbutted him, cursing at the headache she knew she was going to have. He was fast, but she seemed to be faster, and as he reeled, she kneed him again, whipped his arm backward, and began to work. Her nimble fingers danced, the leather whip at her side racing until it served as a pair of makeshift handcuffs and a restraint harness. He resisted, but a swift punch to his temple was enough to disable him a little, catching him off guard and reeling. When he had been thoroughly pinned down, arms behind his back and his senses returned, she cat-crawled across his frame, rested herself upon his chest, and drew squiggle lines across his abdominal muscles. "You should know a thing or two about cats, Batman: we don't like to be restrained. Caged, like animals. Every cat needs to be free to roam around."

"And being free to roam around covers stealing?"

"Well, a girl's got to do something to keep the milk bowl full. Trust me, the money's going to a good cause."

"You're a cat burglar. A thief."

"And you're a man who goes around the city dressed up like a giant rodent with wings. I wouldn't be judging me if I were you."

"You like this with all heroes, or just me?"

She grinned. "Just you, honey." Nailed fingers traced the curvatures of his jawline through his costume, softly stroking from his lips to his temple. "It's been fun, but I need a nap. Come play with me again sometime." Licking her lips, she nuzzled noses with him before she sucked the air from him, leaving him a smoldering kiss to remember her by. "Bye, bye, Batsy. Don't wait up for me."

And just like that, she was gone, a rosy blush creeping from ear to ear.

* * *

Batman, Bruce, for the longest time, watched her go, staring almost endlessly at her trail for a bit, after it had grown cold. She wasn't coming back… whoever she was. That kiss… her attitude, voice, characteristics… she was something else. He didn't know whether to be stoic or excited about this new woman, this new prospect in his nightlife. Was she friend or foe? Either, or? Both? Which was it? At the moment, it seemed to be foe, but could he really tell at this early in the game? She could've killed him, but she didn't; she just tied him up. Another villain, like one of Falcone's men, would've jumped at the chance to off him. _Time would tell which side she wanted to be on_, he supposed, and smiled grimly. Good or bad, either way, she had just stolen quite a bit of cash.

He wrestled a bit with the ropes, trying to reenact that escapology he had learned from Zatara, but the knots were too tight. "So much for that," he muttered to himself, before slipping the serrated blade from his right glove, knowingly in reach the entire time, and began sawing off the rope whip.

* * *

"It was AMAZING," gushed Selina, throwing the bills in the air and shrieking. "I can't believe I finally found him!"

Harley giggled, twirling in circles underneath the storm of cash. "And I can't believe we have enough money to last three years in this place! I thought we'd never get here!"

"Forget here—let's move to someplace better! We can do it!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!"

"WHEEEEEEEEEE!"

She felt like losing her mind. This was amazing, this person inside of her! Independent, smart, sexy, savvy… even a little crazy. This was her. This was this girl she had wanted to be! This was the girl she knew she could be! Though she knew she was breaking the law, and breaking her promise to Ted—considering her options, the rewards outweighed the punishment. That, or she was just simply to excited to care. The thrill of doing this every night for the past three-to-seven weeks had slowly skewed her judgment. The line between good and evil was already blurred from the evil she saw every day. Why worry about it now? A new job, new cash, new everything… she was on top of her game! It was worth it to get this far!

And… Batman. Finally, BATMAN. It was her, and him, with nothing in between. FINALLY. The last time she had felt this alive with someone was with Bruce…

Bruce Wayne. That was enough to kill her bubble. In the seven weeks she'd started on this road, he'd neglected to call her.

Harley snapped her fingers. "So what do you think, Selina? Is this job a keeper?"

She smiled wide, thinking of her encounter with the Dark Knight. "Yeah," she murmured, licking his taste off her lips. "Yeah, I think this one's a keeper."


End file.
